Plumfrost Feast

[RP] Silvered Tongue, Agrin says, "The gates to the Liberalis Estate are opened for the Plumfrost Feast."

Upon gaining entrance to the Liberalis Estate from the street, one can notice that it's already lively within. Mage lights float above, shifting through all the colors of the rainbow. The music can be heard from the great hall, a cheerful tune that is certain to have people dancing. Liveried servants guide guests toward the main hall and toward long tables, situated in which to leave a large square free for dancing, which can easily be seen as a trio of purple-clad Vieran Silk Dancers weave about, dancing scarves creating intricate patterns to compliment their fluid movements. Many scents greet the nose, from the spices of cooking to the wood of the cookfires, even the scents of the freshly washed who have shown themselves to the Plumfrost feast. Toward the head of the hall is a raised dais, a table with several chairs, presumeably for the Lord of the Estate. Serving wenches, liveried yet provocative in their attire, flit through the already seated crowd, filling waiting mugs with the free-flowing wine and ale.

For once, it would seem, Silmeria has decided to emerge from the Temple without her backpack, and neither pistol nor Gunblade are evident on her person. Clad in a simple, neck-high gown of black velvet and white lace, close-fitting at the top and flaring into a wide, bustled floor-length skirt, the blond priestess slips into the Estate, bobbing her head and murmuring words of pleasant greeting to the staff. Azar has chosen a red dress as a replacement for the usual armor she wears, snug around the upper body and waist, and poofing out around the knees. It's almost as if she's gliding along, since her feet are completely hidden, and she walks very smoothly. The woman's long, red hair is done up in a very severe set of buns, several black-handled hair picks holding the whole arrangement into place. She accepts a glass of wine shortly after entry, scanning the crowd, and upon spotting the black-gown'd Simeria, casually makes her way through the crowd towards the temple lay priestess.

Archimedes is almost unrecognizable when he's actually cleaned up and out of his trade garb. Not that there would be many faces to recognize him in the first place. The Burmecian has opted to wear something more traditional to his own people. Which means a lot of bare fur and flowing garment swept about the limbs, though for all that there's still no lack of modesty. He promptly greets the ushers and fixes his fingers on a tall glass of something bubbly before taking a wide survey of the surroundings.

Not long after the proceedings start one of the instructors from the mage guild enters into the large home. A glance is cast towards Vazkor and then the golden winged Raziel reaches up to tug at the straight collar of the fine quality black shirt he's 'acquired' from his companion for the evening and ruined so that the wings can rest comfortably. "I do not understand how such tight collar's can be considered comfortable," he mutters under his breath to the dark skinned fellow who accompanies him.

Vazkor Adamo D'Ceferino, or Vazkor il Vazkor as he prefers to be known, has arrived looking expensively and stylishly dressed as usual, the dark, Rozarrian swashbuckler outfit that's only a few tones lighter than his hair and skin complemented by the wide, red silk sash over which his sword belt rests- the two ornate hilts of his blades sticking into view on his left side, worn as part of his outfit proper rather than as a show of disrespect to their host. Letting himself and the Aegyl at his side be guided by the servants, the man just idly takes in the decor even as he politely smiles and nods at whoever he might recognize as they are passed... The bastard noble looking entirely comfortable in these surroundings. And promptly chuckling some as he glances at Raziel next, and responds to the man, "One gets used to such dress at a young age, in these circles."

There aren't many members to House Corlan present. A tall, willowy Elvaan can be seen, greeting people near the entrance to the great hall, her appearance serene. Her hands move gracefully, causing the Bur-Omisace water silk gown to shimmer in the light and flow with the grace of water.

"Azar!" Silmeria calls as the redhead nears, navigating the crowd and closing with the swordswoman. "Isn't this a lovely party? I don't think I've quite seen its like for a long time, myself..." Clasping hands with Azar once the two are standing face to face, the priestess turns to watch one of the silk-dancers pass, siver-gray wings embroidered on the back of her dress shimmering briefly under the mage-lights. As more enter, the blond bobs a head in their direction. "And look, Vazkor and Raziel... I really must compliment the house on their efforts, this is quite grand."

Azar glides up to Silmeria's side, giving her a quick hug, and faux kisses to the cheeks. "Hello Silmeria!" She grins at the sight of the varied people arriving, enjoying the lights and their effects on the crowd. "This certainly is the fanciest party I have been to in quite some time." The red-head squeezes Silmeria's hand, "Oh dear. Well, hopefully our first encounter has faded slightly in their memory.", she says of Raziel and Vazkor.

More people slip through ahead of the new arrivals, being shown into the great hall and greeted by the pale-haired Elvaan. She laughs softly, her voice sounding like wind chimes as she greets a pair of richly dressed merchants, one a short obese Seeq, the other a tall and foreboding Banga with many piercings. The Banga appears say something witty, causing the girl to a laugh again.

Raziel drops his hand from the collar and smoothes it over his shirt before he nods to Vazkor, "I suppose that's so." The call acrossed the room catches his attention though and he looks off towards Silmeria and Azar as she's approached. Quietly his mostly expressionless face drops into a frown and then shaking his head he murmurs to Vazkor, "won't this evening be... fun." However as they pass by the elvaan lady at the entry the man dips his head politely to her before he begins past, booted feet resounding lightly against the floor as he passes.

Archimedes isn't stalking the Bangaa. Now what would be the point of that? He does fix eyes on him now and then, though. The Burmecian doesn't seem to know anyone in present company which may speak volumes, so he drifts into the crowd and makes small talk whilst keeping an eye on anything interesting.

Vazkor takes a moment to watch his surroundings again... The man nodding a moment at Archimedes as the Burmecian passes him close by, before his attention is diverted by Raziel's comment, and his gaze soon fall upon both Silmeria and Azar. The man smiling then as he gives a brief shrug at Raziel, and soon approaches the two women. Speaking up with his Rozarrian accented baritone, "Ah, Silmeria! How might you be, dear?" Adressing the priestess, before looking at Azar as well and seeming to search his memory... "Hmm, miss Azar, was it? The arachnid's friend?" And he grins some then, good naturedly.

Silmeria chuckles, stepping back as the swordsman and the mage move to join their little circle, bobbing a light curtsy. "Master Vazkor, Master Raziel, it's good to see the both of you again. I've been... well, busy, though thankfully less so, now the dust has settled and the bridge is being rebuilt. I hope your respective students aren't giving you too much grief, then?" As Azar gets drawn into the conversation as well, the blonde glances aside at the swordmaiden, her smile quirking at the corners for a moment.

Within the hall, the music grows louder, as do the cheers--the Vieran Silk Dancers must be working their craft. The smells of the wood-fired kitchens can be smelled, and at a glance, one can see servants still pouring the ale and wines. The Elvaan woman turns to glance into the hall, a small smile coming to her lips before she looks back to the others still entering into the hall.

Marduke steps into the estate, his staff heralding his arrival. His pace is slow as he walks his way in towards the nearest pillar, stoping to peer at it as he appriciates the architecture and design. A glance to the cheers and a shake of his head before looking back to the artwork.

Azar inhales and exhales, "Masters Vazkor and Raziel. My apologies once more for the ... altercation in the market. And yes, your memory serves you well sir, though the spiderling is more of an acquaintance. I wish I could have extricated him better from his predictament." She looks from one man to the other, smiling brightly. The woman then leans slightly towards Silmeria, and whispers, "Who is the elvaan lady there, the one near the entrance currently?"

Raziel dips his head to Silmeria quietly before responding, "it's good that you were able to get away for an evening" The man glances towards Vazkor before he turns towards Azar, his eyes lingeirng on her for a long moment before he nods a touch cooly in responce, "sometimes things are not entirely as they seem... but very well, apologies accepted." His eyes flick again to Silmeria then before smirking, "three weeks without an explosion in my classroom."

Archimedes breaks from his milling and even relents on his observations of particular interest when he hears Marduke announced. Even the more indulgent sights of the party can't keep him from familiarity. Arc approaches Marduke and makes himself known with a gesture and a bow, glass still carefully balanced. "Always a pleasure to see you. Did you come with company?"

Vazkor grins some at Silmeria next, giving an idle shrug as he answers, "It is not difficult keeping students in line when wooden swords are involved." His tone playful. Looking from Raziel to Azar then, he chuckles some, and nods to the red head, "Aye, apology accepted, though I could do without meeting the multi-limbed fellow again." And giving her a wink, before he pauses at her question... Looking over his shoulder then at the Elvaan and seeming to think, and at the same time spotting the familiar figure of Marduke as the Summoner chats with the Burmecian.

The Elvaan woman in question appears to be in her element, playing greeter and hostess to such a large event. She gestures for the last people entering into the hall, servants directing them to the tables. Inside, people are taking in the sight of the Vieran Silk Dancers, their fluid movements with both silk and bodies mimicking leaves and grasses caught in a plains breeze as the music slows. There seem to easily be over one hundred of the top merchants, lower nobles, and other special individuals from all over Emberstrand. "They are preparing to serve the first course," she says, voice carrying the distinct tones of Archades.

"You know," Silmeria murmurs, tilting her head as she glances toward the hostess, "I'm not *entirely* certain. I've seen Lord Agrin walking about the city with her, so either she's part of the House, or a retainer... but I'd guess the former, given she seems to be hosting..." She seems about to say more, but her head pops up as the announcement for dinner is given. "...Ah! I suppose we'd best find our seats, then."

Azar chuckles lightly at Vazkor's response, "Oh, I'll be that was pretty creepy for anyone who's arachnaphobic. But you seemed to take it very well. Thanks again for not unsheathing your blade." Azar nods to Silmeria, "I think I have seen them around town once or twice, but I have not heard either of their names before." Her eyebrows raise slightly and she grins. "Oooh, this is the best part! Food!" The red-head tugs on Silmeria's hand, and heads towards the seating arrangements.

Marduke glances up to the elvaan woman and nods," Oh yes yes of course." he offers and pushes off his staff to move along heading inside to the first course it seems. "Hmm hmm wher to sit." Offering a nod to the others as he passes them with a smile, " Good day."

Archimedes traipses after Marduke. He won't be put off quite so easily (though surely that wasn't the intention) and pulls out the Summoner's chair for him. He doesn't care too much where he settles in as long as he's got a decent view of the hostess and their company, really.

Raziel looks at Azar, then at Vazkor, then back at Azar. His brow rises a little, but the mage says nothing. As the announcement is made though the man nods in agreement with Silmeria and silently he starts to make his way to find a seat among the gathered merchats.

Vazkor gives a one shouldered shrug, smiling some as he remarks, "Ah, unlike some of my Rozarrian ilk, I do not unsheath my weapon for every little slight and annoyance. He was not a threat, just a very silly person." Glancing over at the Elvaan then as she announces the start of the dinner, he nods and meets Raziel's eyes, speaking to the Aegyl, "Shall we?" And motioning to the table, before he starts to saunter towards it... Pausing a moment as Marduke greets in passing, and return the gesture, "Ah, hello Marduke."

As people are being seated, the hostess sees to it the last of the guests are seated. She makes her way up toward the dais and is joined by a rather darkly dressed, middle-aged man. He makes his way up the three stairs that separate the dais from the rest of the floor, the man supported by his cane. Presumeably the lord of the estate as he takes the center seat at the table, the seat to his right vacant while the seat to his left the Elvaan hostess takes. The music quiets down, the dancers slow and stop their

The music quiets down, the dancers slow and stop their dance. The host of the party stands from his seat at the central table after things have quieted down. "Welcome, honored friends of Emberstrand," he begins, his Archadian voice very distinct amidst the sea of murmurs. "I welcome you to my home. It is a time in which we of Emberstrand need comforting, a sense of normalcy in the face of what is to come. So, please. Enjoy."

Marduke glances to Archimedes, "As to your earlier question. Alone." Then peering at the pulling out seat and shakes his head, sitting down. "Doing well Vazkor, havn't seen you in quiet a while. At least not had the chance to talk anyways. Market place was the last." Putting his staff down next to him, but not letting it out of arms reach. Glancing up Marduke offers a smile to the host and then peers to the table to see what is being served.

Grumm heard announcements about a feast, shortly after arriving in the city. The offer of a free meal is music to the ears of a hungry belly. He takes the time to clean the layer of grime from a long time traveling at the river before making his way to the estate. Good thing there was an exception to the dress code, all he has is some well worn travelling clothes. Atleast he's well groomed and doesn't stick like an animal when he arrives. He moves slowly as he enters, unsure if the invitation was really for everyone. Hopefully the worst that would happen is a stern warning that his presence isn't welcome. Just in time for the first course he moves along with the other guests, taking whatever open seat he can find.

Silmeria settles into her seat on the other side of Archimedes, arranging her skirts comfortably and listening closely as Lord Agrin makes his speech. Smiling toward the Lord, she lifts her glass a bit as he bids them welcome, bobbing her head his way in silent thanks. "That would be Lord Agrin Corlan," she murmurs to Azar, just loud enough that those nearby can hear. "Rather a lovely man, honestly... d'you know, he opened his house to a good many of the children orphaned by the bombs?"

Azar sits down across from Archimedes, near Silmeria, and nods slowly. "So that's the man himself. He did right in letting children stay here." She too lifts her glass in silent toast, and sips some of the wine. Nodding to Archimedes across the way, the woman looks back to Silmeria. "Well, I have to thank you for letting me know about this gathering. Hopefully I can learn a bit more about the city's well to do."

Archimedes nods a bit at Marduke. "As am I. So if at any point you need an ear." His gaze wanders towards the host. "... or a pair of eyes." After which he remains for some time, pleasant but largely unobtrusive. Until a quiet moment he can slip off and vanish Bahamut knows where. Probably up.

Raziel takes the seat while casting a glance towards Silmeria, murmuring as he does, "some of the ones which weren't taken off by the Doodlebug along with the priestess and the orphanage owner's wife?" There's a little hum before nodding his agreement in regards to the kindness but then he turns his attention towards Agrin quietly studying the man for a few moments before the gaze moves off towards the arriving dwarf.

Servants begin to lay out the trenchers in front of everyone, served in Old Valendian style, prior to The Folly. Curiously, the other seat next to Lord Corlan still remains empty as dinner begins to be brought out.

After trenchers have been laid upon the tables in front of the guests, the Lord of Liberalis Estate waves his hand, signalling to the servants to bring about the first course after ale and wine has been liberally dispensed amongst the guests. Music plays in the background, the Vieran Dancing Troupe continuing its fluid movements of entertainment. Trays begin to issue forth from the area of the kitchens, bearing large amounts of food for each table. Roasted beet cakes with ghysahl greens and Rozarrian olive tapenade can be seen. Large bowls filled with greens follow, filled with mint, parlsey, and curiel greens, dressed in lemon juice. Platters filled with Emberstrander noodles waft their delicate and spicy scent of butter and red pepper puree. Lastly, placed at regular increments at the tables, are platters of poppy bread with floral butter.

Vazkor sits down next to Raziel and settles in comfortably, the man taking a moment to scan nearby faces, letting his gaze trail across each side of the table. But then he turns his attention to the nearby conversation and hmms a moment, "Ah, a philantropist." Smiling then as he states this without any sarcasm... And switches his gaze to Marduke next, grinning some at the man as he answers him, "You were there for the incident with the spider-kin, I believe, yes. We were discussing it just minutes ago." The man shrugging some, before his attention is diverted once more, this time by all the food brought in, "Ah, excellent."

"Oh yes," Silmeria says, bobbing her head to Raziel. "The orphanage and the temple got the lion's share to safety, but I think it was in the between time that Lord Agrin took in a handful or so. I mean, there's only *so* much room here, and too many would be rather difficult to manage--Oh!" As the food is carried out, the pristess' eyes light up in pleasure at the sights and smells alone. A bit is taken, here and there, just enough to get a taste of the dishes on offer. "This is *lovely!*"

The food is a big hit so far, and there is some quiet chatter amongst the people. "So, I wonder why that seat is empty next to him?" asks the fat Seeq merchant to his Bangaa companion. The Bangaa grins toothily. "Don't you know anything, Fharr? That eat be empty because der be no Lady Corlan." The Seeq looks confused, pointing a fat finger toward the girl seated on Agrin's left, to the Elvaan. "So who's she?" The Bangaa elbows the Seeq in the fatty ribs. "That be his daughter."

Azar is very distracted as the food arrives, and she makes sure to take a bit of everything. And then tries it all, one after the other. While she eats properly, ladylike, she does have a tendancy to eat quickly. "Mmmph. So delicious." she says, pausing between the poppybread and noodles. "So if I am hearing right, she's his daughter. And I wonder then if she is from a previous marriage perhaps, since there's no Lady Corlan. There have been some interesting things happening since I left Archades it seems." Azar looks over at Raziel and Vazkor, and then back to Silmeria. "They've been evacuating children from the city then? Does that mean that Archades is coming, or is it just a bit over-cautious?"

Vazkor obviously knows what he's doing when it comes to tablemanners, even using the right knives, forks and spoons for each meal. And as he eats, enjoying each dish, he just continues to listen to the conversations around him... Azar's comment soon catching his interest, and the man looking up at her, "I'm not as versed in politics as I should be, any more, but it seems there might be some truth in the rumors. I know the bridge attack caused some worries as well, but if was part of some Archadian ploy to take Emberstrand, however, I do not know."

Grumm doesn't know anyone here, or in the rest of the city and is completly out of place in the setting. Finally he finds an open seat near the man that was welcoming people, appearently someone important. He sits in it and pulls himself close to the table, looking much like a child sitting at the adults table with his legs dangling above the ground. The silverware gets fiddled with as he wonders why someone would need more than one fork, shoveling food in with both hands doesn't let you eat it any faster. The people are are mostly ignored when the food comes and he eats with the entheuasm that only a man who hasn't eaten for days can muster. There's little hesitation with any of the dishes and even less talking, mostly comments about surface food in dwarven.

Marduke picks out his food carefully and eats slowly taking his time. Eyes glancing to the direction Archimedes went and frowning a moment. With a shrug of his shoulders he looks back over to Vazkor and hmms a moment. "Indeed." Eyes looking to who else is there and hmming a moment with a smile, "Quit the turn out it seems." Looking back to his food and staying mostly quiet.

"I'd not know," Silmeria answers about Agrin's marital status, voice amused, "but it'd be far from the most remarkable thing I've seen, I think... And whether or not Archades tends to move, I'd say the Temples were right in being cautious all the same. War is war, but I'd not gamble the lives of children who've had enough tragedy to be going on with, already." A small forkful of noodles cuts off the priestess' conversation, her eyes wandering toward the travel-stained dwarf, and his apparent attempt to make up for lost time. "...Oh my," she murmurs.

"Aww good, I ain't missed nuthin' 'portant-like." The brash statement comes from a black and white mouse girl, who swaggers into the dining proceedings, after having spent a good seven minutes debating with the doorman about where (and indeed if) she ought to leave her shield and spear. Dressed for fine dining, she is not; dressed like she usually is, she... is, though her breastplate and any other metal items she's wearing are polished to a mirror shine. Celeste picks an open seat and plops into it, not far off from Silmeria, and does a quick glance about to see how people are holding their cutlery, before plucking items of food to heap up on a plate.

Azar chuckles, and leans towards Silmeria. "He eats faster than I do. I should ask him his secret." She goes silent for a time, nodding at what Vazkor says. "If Archades comes south, any guess as to who will come north to challenge their play for Emberstrand?" The woman pauses as Celeste makes her entrance, nodding at the mousekin as she plops into a seat nearby. "This party seems to be quite the shindig."

The Lord of the Estate watches as people eat, drink, and be merry. He begins to eat as well, his eyes glancing around, falling upon the newest arrivals with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. Agrin gives another nod and the next round is brought out just as others are starting to dig in. As the platters are mostly picked clean, the second service is brought forth. Large roasted chocobos, browned beautifully from the roasting fire, dressed in baked almond-filled apricots and sprigs of rosemary are carried out, taking two men per bird to rest it in the center of each table. Serving wenches bring out gilded apples--baked meatballs coated in apple and Moorabellan kirsch syrup, and rashers of bacon glazed in Archadian mead. A delicate citrus scent follows as sablefish poached in Rozarrian olive oil, citrus, and thyme is laid amidst the platters. Lastly, individual cockatrice pies with currants and Bur-Omisace rush roots, steam still wafting from the slits in their buttery crusts.

The dancers draw Grumm's attention and he turns his head to watch them but quickly goes back to the food and wine. After packing a hearty meals worth of food away he slows down and takes a look around at the other guests. His actions when the second course comes are much like the first but with a smile when the bird comes out. He points a fork at the lord beside him and motions towards the chocobo. "Was startin t' think y'all ate like bunnies." The possibility of someone carving for the table doesn't occure to him and he carves off a slab, eating it while speared by his fork and never making it to a plate.

The blond priestess picks out one each of the new course, her delight very evident at the sunny smile on her face. "I don't think it even needs to be said," she says, her expression not losing a bit of her wonder, as she nibbles on a slice of bacon. "They've been eyeing one another across Ivalice since time out of mind, after all... And Emberstrand between... Oh *my,* this pie is *wonderful!*"

The Lord of the Estate looks down at his dwarven guest, his lips twitsting into another small smile. "I hope those the next two courses will please someone from the Mountainhomes, Ser." He shifts his cane next to him as he allows his eyes to scan the crowds, as though looking for someone. He doesn't appear perturbed that someone has sat in the normally vacant seat for the non-existent Lady Corlan. His daughter, on the other hand, giggles, her voice like wind chimes. Behind, however, the Lord's Captain of the Guard seems to seethe quietly. Security risk to his charge.

The red-head chuckles at Silmeria's digging into a ... tiny slice of pie. "How would you know, you've barely got three bites there, Silmeria." Desert isn't really on her mind. Bacon, however, is greedily piled onto her plate, as are the meatballs. "Mmmph, Moorabellan kirsch... a pity Toni isn't here, she'd like this I think. Oh, that reminds me Silmeria, I should introduce you two, if you haven't met. She's quite the character, and adorable! As for north and the south, whomever wins... we lose, I don't see any way past that one point."

Celeste doesn't waste time getting through the first course; of course there's more coming, and... ahh good, there's the meat. Who needs vegetables? Celeste reaches out and simply plucks what she wants with her fingers, loading up her plate with bacon and meatballs and cockatrice pies. "Na'bad," she observes, mostly in response to Silmeria's observations about how good the food is. She stuffs a couple meatballs in her mouth, before turning to peer in Azar's direction. "How yer figure? So yer gots two bullies bustin' fer a fight. Ain't mean either of 'em gonna win."

Marduke glances to the dwarf and tilts his head. Then chuckles and smiles faintly, "I believe it is common practice to start with salads at a formal dinner. Two courses to go, should be interersting good sir. Havn't had good chocobo in a while." Turning back to his food a moment, eyes glancing a moment to the unhappy head of security and smirking to himself. His attention quickly caught by the conversation of Celeste, Azar, and Silmeria.

Azar looks over at Celeste, raising her glass in salute, and drinking more of the fine wine. "The problem lies in our location. Between the two, bullies, as you said. If Emberstrand remains neutral, one side will simply state they are taking us under their wing for our own safety. The other side will declare war. If Emberstrand chooses a side, that then will start the war. The bridge's destruction is likely enough for the former to happen, Archades will arrive to save us from the so-called rebels. No matter what happens, we get rolled. Possibly more than once." The music continues, the dancers exchanging their silken lengths for ribbon wrapped sticks. The tone of the music appears warlike tempo to it as the Vieran Dancers perform a dance known to few, but those that know it know it as the Tulque Dance of Blades, from prior to The Folly.

The seething guard and indignant stares from nobles are ignored for what's important, the food. Grumm even goes so far as to wink at the lords daughter, not knowing who she is. "Tha's good. So I guess you's the guy tha' supplied the eats." He holds up a glass of wine in a quick salute to Marduke before draining it. "Sounds complicated jus' t' eat." A cockatrice pie held in his hand is waved around at the estate. "Nice shack ya got here, but wha' ya really need is a cave!" The pie quickly disapears as he stuffs it into his mouth.

The fat Seeq, Fharr, grins toothily to his Bangaa associate "So whatcha make of that up there? Th' dwarf sittin' in the empty Lady Corlan's chair?" The Bangaa shakes his head, snorting his laughter before taking a bite from one of the cockatrice pies. "Eh, th' noble ain't pissed off, or maybe he's just too pissed with wine to care."

"In the worst case, that's about right," Silmeria murmurs, turning her wineglass about. "But not the only outcome. Who's to say, after all, how the story will end?" Her eyes rise to the dwarf, then to the commentators, lips quirking up. "I really do hope that the evening's entertainment doesn't get overshadowed," she notes, nodding to the stick-bearing Viera. "It's truly a rare sight, and it ought to be properly appreciated."

There's other gossip the other side of the room, this time from some of the ladies. "It's a pity he doesn't have a wife, you know?" speaks a rather richly dressed merchantwoman. "His poor daughter can't have had a decent upbringing without a proper mother. I heard her mother left after she was born. You know, the way of elves when then don't want their Elvaan spawn." Another woman laughs gayly in response, sipping from the wine. "He went and adopted some of those street urchins but no woman to help raise them. I'm not certain I'd want to marry him. I mean, look at that face. He's not winning any beauty awards."

"Yer bein' all defeated' a'fore yer been hit," Celeste points out, leaning forwards to talk to Azar across someone else's plate. "Sure, yer Archadians an' yer Rozarians got big hairy ol' armies, but plenty more ter winnin' a fight'n just pakin' th'most blokes about." She shrugs her shoulders lightly, and plucks a piece of bacon from the middle of the table, to pop directly into her mouth. "Plenny' a times in history when smaller bunch's a' folk done kicked some larger forces in'a nuts," she continues, talking while chewing. "An' tha's what yer hears th'stories 'bout later."

Azar lets out a long, low breath and looks back across that same plate at Celeste. "And those stories usually end with how those valiant few all died. And for every story like that, there are a hundred times as many where the bully wins. Read your history books instead of the story books. You need more than a few to win. You need airships, deep pockets, and many more men. You would do better to petition House Rider for airships and men, and the other Houses as well. The Sky Pirates will keep the city supplied... and I hear they've already evacuated children and aged out of the city. Please." She leans forward, almost encroaching on the food there. "I like you. Don't go out to die."

"You are declaring victory before it is won. Both views have faults in them Celeste." Marduke offers from over the table and shrugs. "To much in the works we do not see yet. This city has a history of focal points." Picking up another piece of food, "This really isn't a conversation for a dinner table and celebration honestly though is it?'"

The Vieran dancers continue their performance. The ribbon wrapped sticks clash against each other in spinning patterns. Their athletic forms continue to swirl, sway, and dodge out of each others' way.

The gossip continues while the dancers work their magic. "I suppose if you've got a second daughter or even a desperate cousin it would work," says the first woman who had been gossiping. "He does have a fair bit of coin, if this feast is anything to note. Not to mention just building an estate here. It's like he's settling in," says the other one.

It takes a while for Grumm to realize how much of a commotion is happening because of him. He looks over at Agrin. "Tis normally the way ya surface people act? Seems like they dun know wha's important." A laden fork is pointed at the woman talking about the man's looks. "Wha's so great 'bout her?" He takes a break from eating to watch the dancers again and nods his head towards them. "They's good, wonder wha' the dance represents."

"I think," Silmeria notes, tipping her glass toward the dancers, "that perhaps this conversation *might* be a touch out of place, myself... I mean, lovely food, exotic rare dancing, our host from a rather prominent Archadean family... It may be that talking about who'll be picking a fight with whom *could* be seen as an insult, if you take my meaning. Besides, has anyone else ever seen a Blade Dance before? Azar, Celeste, you truly are missing out by not paying attention."

"I been readin' History," Celeste replies, with a mildly irritated twich of her ear. "I ain' stupid. I ain' planin' on doin' nuthin' blind-like." She leans back in her seat, and continues stuffing her face, and not being shy about it either. "Dun' worry. Promised me cousin I'da be back, an' I ain't aimin' ter fail." She glances at Marduke, and shakes her head, "Ain' declarin' nuthin' but hope an' courage," she replies, before nodding to Silmeria. "I'mma seen blade dances before. Grew up w'Viera," she explains. "Ain' never seen quite like this, though."

Azar shakes her head slowly, and sits back to resume eating. "I have not seen a blade dance before, I admit." The red-head makes quick work of the bacon, and the meatballs as well. "Though I do not believe that our conversation was worse than the gossip about why our host has no wife, I would think that is far more insulting."

Agrin glances sidelong to the dwarf next to him, leaning back in his seat with an amused look on his face. "Ser Dwarf, while out of the Mountainhomes, we surface folk sometimes take delight in saying barbed words when people think they cannot be heard. Not all of us can headbutt or punch our way to victory. It would be a spiritsend if we could."

Marduke lets out a short laugh and peers at Azar, "You have not been in many noble courts then. Talking about the marital status of the host, his guest, and all that is common practice. Though they are doing a poorer job of hiding it then most do. My visits to other courts I supppose has a different flavor." picking up his drink and taking a sip, "The dance is rather interesting through."

Grumm looks at Agrin, then at his daughter, then back to him. "She's not ya wife?" He sets down his fork and reaches up to scratch at his beard. "Not ser, name's Grumm. I dun understand. Insultin' people is considered a victory? Strange." Another pie gets devoured while he continues to watch the dancers. "And it's quite certain you won't see its like again," Silmeria murmurs, a note of sadness touching her voice. "Few remember Jagd Tulque, or the Viera that roam its fringes. Watch, Azar, Celeste, and see a history more tragic than any lost siege." Drawing in a slow breath, the blond shakes her head, bringing the wine to her lips. "...Pardon. I've run across a history or two myself, and some tales stay with a person." Azar glares over at Marduke. "You are correct, I have only been in one noble court. That of Archades. I understand what small talk is, and why it is spoken." She stabs a fork into a haunch of chocobo, and pulls it to her plate. "Talk of someone's wife, or lack thereof, is far more insulting than talk of war. Especially within earshot of the noble in question." She huffs and bites into the chocobo, chewing and swallowing before answering Silmeria. "I would be interesting in reading about that dance, if you've a writen tome about it, Silmeria."

"Depends on'a siege," Celeste murmurs, her voice dipping uncharacteristically low as she watches the dance. "Silmeria... pardon me, but ain' it the way it ain't gonna last what make it beautiful?" She pauses, and quirks her lips upwards. "Everythin' we see an' make an' *are*... ain't f'rever. Sooner'r later we all pops us clogs, an' tha's it, end'f experience." She shrugs lightly, and considers a piece of bacon held between her fingertips. "See, I figure everythin' better that way... if'n we all lasted f'rever, nuthin' have any point ter appreciatin' it." She pops the piece of bacon in her mouth, and chews slowly, enjoying the flavor as she watches the dance.

"My daughter, actually. Visiting from Archades. She's planning on joining me here and taking up her studies here." Agrin's brows raise in thought as he continues to watch the Blade Dance, it's movements becoming more flashy as the music plays faster. His fingers motion to his servants, a signal of sorts.

Ah, the crowning achievement! If the roast chocobo wasn't an extravagant showpiece, the stag that is brought out certainly is. The beast is brought out, bedecked in local flours and coated in a plum sauce. As the beast is placed upon each of the long tables, they are sliced open, revealing being stuffed with rabite and sylhis greens. Following the stag come large clay pots filled with potted mu, mixed with turnips, parsnips, and mint. Yet more comes with fish, baked and rolled around rice and raisins. Drip puddings are set in front of everyone, wafting with the mixed scents of all the dishes cooked from the kitchens. Poached rabite with potatoes, cream sauce, and fresh fiddlehead ferns come in small terracotta dishes, set in front of each guest. Lastly in this large service, earthen mugs filled with aspic seasoned with cracked black pepper, sage, and nutmeg are set next to each dish of poached rabite. The Vieran Dancers part, making way for the younger batches of performers, younger Vierans, beginning to juggle knives and flaming torches.

Marduke raises his eyebrows over to Azar, and nods slowly. "I shall defur to your better experiance. My experiances are more in the spirit courts." Sipping his drink and watching the dance for a brief moment. Shaking his head, "Oh a younger set of dancers now is it? The last time I saw some many Viera in once place was." Taking a moment to think and shiver, "I would actually rather forget that moment. It was not pleasent." Glancing over to Silmeria and watching her curiously.

Azar oohs as fire is juggled about, along with sharp implements. Upon seeing the last course, she leans over to whisper to Silmeria once more. "I do believe it is our host's intent to kill us with food. At least I shall die happy, I suppose." She giggles and digs in once again as the food is brought round. Looking over at Marduke, she simply shrugs, "I have not experienced the spirit courts. I suppose though that they are probably similar in many ways, but for the courtiers and nobles."

"And you asked why I was eating so little," Silmeria says, her gloom shaken off like a light dusting of snow. "With a showpiece like this, I truly do hope there'll be corners left for dessert." A bit here and there is taken, slivers of the stag, a spoonful of aspic and rabite laid next to each other... even with only sampling from each piece, there's very little empty space left on the blond's plate by the time everything is picked over. "*Very* definitely going to have to give the Lord my compliments, this is simply sublime..." Blinking, she seems to spool back the conversation in her head, tossing an apologetic glance Azar's way. "Sad to say, it's not likely you'd be reading it anytime soon... it's among the histories kept in the Necropolis, I'm afraid..."

Grumm has already eaten more than most here will and theres still two courses left but he's still hungry. He focuses on the dancers while waiting excitedly for what food is to come. "Where's ya wife, she in Archades?" His eyes open wide as the next course comes in and he licks at his lips while loading his plate, mostly with stag and rabite meat. One of the flowers is sniffed at as he considers it's edability. "Ya seem like a man tha' know whas' going on. Wha' happened to ta bridge?" Lord Corlan's eyes grow tight at the corners at Grumm's question. "Passed on not long after my daughter's birth," he responds shortly before taking to eating slowly and deliberately. He pauses to sip wine, answering Grumm's second question. "Explosions took out the bridge, dropping it onto the slums below, Ser Grumm." Marduke raises his drink again to take a sip. He then asks over to Silemeria, "Not going to have a copy in the Akashic Library then Silmeria?" He looks about to chuckle, but his expression turns a bit more neutral. Marduke glance to Grumm and the host, perhaps having overheard something. He then shakes his head of his and a sigh. "Well then. So you ladies, how have you been?" Turning back to Celeste, Simleria, and Azar.

Azar grins back at Silmeria, "That's why the dress is stretchy, it will hold my stomach in. Not about to let food get the best of me." She focuses on the rabite and potatoes, and the aspic. "As for that book, would it be possible then for you to retell the story? If it's not hard on you to do so? I would not want to upset you, but it would be interesting to know the story behind the dance we were witness to. If it is a rare site, it is worth knowing." The red-head looks over at Marduke, and chuckles. "Doing well, though I miss my favorite waiter over at the Wildfire Inn." Azar sticks her tongue out at the man before taking another bite of rabite. "Perhaps," Silmeria says, shaking her head, "but not here. This is *very* much not the place for such tales, and it's a sorrowful one indeed." Smiling and looking to Marduke, the blond raises a glass. "I'm here, Master Marduke, thus *very* well indeed." Toying with her slice of stag, she looks up at Celeste, tilting her head. "Then, Celeste... what do you think would be the purpose of trying to *create* anything of lasting worth? If something is only worth it because it's going to go away... Why do we try?"

"Tha's unfortunate, sorry ta hear it." Grumm raises a glass to salute the memory of the fallen lady. "Need ta be more careful wit' splosives." He chews on a thick piece of stag meat and pokes at the pudding with a fork. "Nice of ya to feed these people." After deciding the pudding isnt food he pops a flower into his mouth and chews thoughtfully on it. Azar's ability to consume doesn't go by unnoticed and he waves, calling out. "Good eats!" Followed closely by a mouthfull of potatos.

Celeste found herself distracted after making her oh-so-profound statement, by the appearance of something rather amazing. Bacon and meatballs were finished, and then another generous helping of food was heaped up on her plate. She digs in to that, using a fork... well, basically just spearing a hunk of meat and biting bits off of it from there. "I'mma great," she replies to Marduke, and flashes a toothy grin. At Silmeria's question, the mouse looks back to the blond haired woman, and quirks an eyebrow upwards. "'Cause it only by doin' summin' worthwhile we makes us lives mean summin'," she replies. "Beats twiddlin' us thumbs, waitin' ter die. Ain' th'fact we's gonna die what matters, jes' what we does a'fore we gets there." She pauses, and shrugs. "'s what me Mum taught me, an'how."

Azar ahs and nods, "Then perhaps over lunch, on a sunny day, when an unhappy tale cannot do as much harm, Silmeria?" She looks over at Celeste with an eyebrow raised. "Not all of us are twiddling our thumbs, nor waiting to die. But I must say that your mother was right in teaching you that doing something meaningful gives life purpose." Azar pauses to stare at the dwarf for but a moment, before lifting up a hunk of stag in response, "Aye, Ser Dwarf! Good eats!" She promptly tears a bite out of the chunk, and chews it down." The jugglers continue their display, tossing the torches and knives taking higher into the air. The Elvaan next to Agrin turns to the man on her left, blushing as he talks to her. Agrin ignores it, letting his daughter speak to the man. He, however, takes to drinking more wine.

"He is at least making an attempt at being pleasant," one of the gossiping women mentions over her goblet of wine. "I wonder if there's enough wine in the world to get past the 'pleasant', Myrcelia," the second woman snarks.

"And that," Silmeria says, raising her glass to Celeste, "is a sentiment I can very much agree with. Especially given the present company," she murmurs into her glass. "One should *always* try to do something worthwhile, no?" Beaming a smile across the table at the louder of the noble ladies, she tucks a small forkful of aspic in her mouth, turning her eyes toward the jugglers.

Celeste grins, and as she's lacking a glass, plucks the one from the person beside her and raises it in return to Silmeria. "Jes' so," she replies, before draining the contents of said glass, and plopping it back in front of its owner. The mouse returns to munching on her large hunk of stag, before moving on to some rabite. "Cookie oughter come to one'a these shindigs," she observes, albeit mostly to herself. "Weren't sayin' yer was thumb-twiddlin', Azar," she adds. "Jes' makin' me point. ...An' yes, good grub." She casts a glance in Agrin's direction, and observes the nobleman for a moment, before she too turns her eyes to the knife juggling.

Grumm shakes his head and calles back. "Not Ser, name's Grumm." He watches the jugglers while chewing on a hunk of stag, expecting them to get burnt or cut. Various combaniations of foods are tried together, rabite meat with aspic, ferns dipped in steam sauce, stag meat with fish. And many more each chewed slowly to test the flavors. He listens to the gossiping women, giving them the stink eye until he finally speaks up. "If ya gonna eats ta mans food, ya should be more gracious." "Let them talk," Agrin says, a tone of boredome in his voice as he motions for his wine to be filled again. "Were if my brother here, they would be busy fawning over his distinguished looks. Give them something to take their minds off of."

"He's right, of course," SIlmeria murmurs to Celeste, nodding in agreement. "The dwarf, I mean... Grumm. But, it does seem to be rather a price of nobility... to pretend such cawing doesn't upset you, and lay plans to find a soft place to slip a metaphorical dagger, later. I'll be surprised if those ladies find *any* friends in local court, for a time, after this. Still... if one isn't going to bother hiding contempt, one does get what they deserve. Ah, well." The beaming smile, a much more genuine one, is turned toward the Lord, and the priestess raises her glass toward him in salute.

Celeste ehs softly. "I'mma prefers a' direct method," she replies. "If'n some idjit insults me, I punches 'em in'a face." She pauses, casting a grin at the two gossipy noblewomen. "An' if'n they does it twice... then I'mma hopes they feelin' tough." She bites off a piece of rabite meat, and enjoys the flavor as she eyes the two women a moment longer, before turning her gaze back towards Silmeria. "He is right," she agrees, nodding twoards Grumm and Agrin. "Wha's yer name? Ain't figure we done met b'fore."

Grumm shrugs and relents, he has no right to defy the man in his own house. He drains one last glass of wine and eats another morsel of stag, maybe he has there's an extra stomach on his leg for all the food to fit into. The chair's too high for him to push back properly so he just shimmies off the side and bows deeply to Agrin. "Thanks for the eats and ta invitation to share ya home. Need to find a place to sleep before it gets too late." He stops near Celeste's chair and thumps a fist on his chest. "Names Grumm, jus' got in ta city and we dun get many visitors where I'm from."

"It was my pleasure to provide to my Emberstrand friends," Agrin responds. He pushes back his chair, grasping his cane to help push him upright. The last signal for his servants. The dishes are cleared away and more music strikes up, filling the hall with merriment. A good time had by all as the liveried servants bring out the final course to wind down the feast. Fruit fritters stuffed with various dried fruits, lavender, and floral butter are stacked high on platters as they are delivered to each large table. Pears glisten in large shallow bowls, stewed in Emberstrander Berry Cordial. More wine and ale are poured freely from the serving wenches to ensure the mood.

The dessert, truly the capstone of any fancy meal, is greeted with unalloyed sounds of true joy, from the black-clad priestess, and as ever, a little bit of everything is selected, that nothing may turn out to be a regret later. As Grumm passes, the blond bobs a head toward the dwarf, hurriedly dabbing a small dollop of butter away from her mouth. "It's good to meet you, Master Grumm, and I *do* hope to speak to you again."

Celeste directs a winning smile up at Grumm. "Celeste St. Wallenrod," she replies, and bobs her head. "Pleasure ter meetcha." She pauses a moment, and then seeing as how there is desert, she turns back to her meal. The meat portion is downed in record time, and then she starts with a couple of pears -- and mug of ale, of which half disappears in one gulp. "Mighty fine shindig," she drawls, turning her gaze in Agrin's direction. "Compl'ments ter yer cooks, a'course."

"Ya as well." Replies Grumm with a nod of his head towards Silmeria. "I'll be around ta city, tryin to get accepted at ta magic scholl I've heard about." He squeezes between two chairs and grabs a fritter from the table, something for a snack or maybe breakfast. He bows slightly at Celeste and turns with a wave, leaving the feast.

The Lord of the Estate shifts on his feet, watching those about his hall. He moves to descend the dais, stopping before the pair of gossiping women. He gives a slow smile, bordering on lupine. "I hope you've both had enough wine to enjoy the pleasantries, m'ladies." He continues toward Silmeria and Celeste, stopping before the pair of them. "I'm glad you enjoyed my much disliked Archadian hospitality, Miss Celeste."

Silmeria looks up at Agrin, a spoon still in her mouth, and simply shines at Agrin. "It's certainly the best meal I've had in... oh, *years,* now. Thank you, *so much,* Lord Agrin. I truly can't describe how wonderful your food was, and the entertainment!" Clearly, even without a head full of wine, the priestess is like to gush for some time.

Celeste quirks one corner of her mouth upwards in a lopsided grin. "Me Mum were Archadian," she replies to Agrin, "But she never done mention nuthin' like this." She finishes off the first pear, before moving on to the second one. "But, as I'mma sayin'. Fine meal, and appreciatin' y'hospitality." Agrin gets a twinkle in his eye as he looks to Silmeria. "Joy looks good on you, Priestess. I would like to invite you for an after meal cordial ... or perhaps an afternoon tea, Silmeria?" He shifts on his feet to get comfortable, the cane helping to prop him upright.

"Afternoon tea, I think, would be quite lovely," Silmeria responds, dipping her head. "I'm afraid I must be returning to the temple soon, myself... our duties do start rather early, and Lord Hades doesn't accept a sore head as an excuse to shirk." Chuckling quietly, the priestess looks to Celeste. "It *was* a fine meal, wasn't it?" Second verse, same as the first...

"Afternoon tea it is," Agrin says before bringing a hand to touch a pair of fingers over his heart. "Until we meet for tea, Priestess." He makes his way carefully through the hall, dodging the drunken and overly stuffed, cane spearing the floor with each step.

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