The Midsummer Ball (IC)

[Hittanryan]

Carlson and Jackie

They continued the game. Carlson guiding her, Jacqueline teasing until he reasserted himself and it started again. When she ran her leg up his, he held it, leaning back and bringing her with him. Just about when they looked ready to embrace, he abruptly set her down to twirl her away. Luo glanced over at them occasionally.

As Jacqueline spun away, connected only by the touch of fingers, she felt as far apart from this male she’d desired to couple with. What was it about a man so brash that drew her? Every movement on his part, every aspect of this foreign dance they now danced, suggested possession. It was beyond sacrilege. . . It was indescribable. Yet she felt not disgust, but lust. Or perhaps both in equal measure. In either case, she only needed wait a heartbeat before the tug of his hand brought her spinning back into his embrace.

If Jacqueline was conflicted, Carlson was single-minded. With each movement he could practically taste her desire, could tell she was receptive to him, and the sight of her in that state made him want her more. As he caught her in a twirl, he had her arm folded across her chest, with her back pressed against him. For just as long as the beat of the music allowed, he ran a finger along her cheek, down to her neck, until the tango demanded action, shifting to her hand and stepping in unison.

A man’s fingers on her neck...that was it. Jacqeline growled low in her throat, a noise part, anger, part denial. It seemed that the music climbed to an incredible crescendo as they danced, legs stepping within each other with such grace and control. When it ended, and silence finally filled the hall for some brief moments, Jacqueline found herself face to face with this foreign male. Panting, a sheen of sweat on her chest, colour high in her cheeks. It had been a dance beyond anything she’d ever had, and so the Princess of Deadora said the only thing she could, the answer to his question, in a coarse and aching whisper: “Jacqueline.”

Carlson couldn’t help his reaction, giving her a roguish grin. “Tonight, my room,” he said in a low growl before whispering where he was staying.

Jacqueline clutched him then, nails digging into the back of his neck, as she leaned forward and kissed him. Her teeth tugged at his lower lip as she pulled away, and she said hoarsely “Leave all things unlocked,” even as a hand snaked down his abdomen and tugged at his belt. Then, she was gone. Disappearing into the crowd. Until their next rendezvous.

Luo’s eyes practically bugged out when he saw the kiss. As Carlson approached the drinks table again with a confident swagger, he pulled him aside and admonished him. “Do you have any idea who that was?”

“A hot piece of ass, that’s who,” Carlson replied with a smirk.

“That was Jacqueline Thrall, Crown Princess, heir to the throne of a nation part of FODE and whose human rights abuses rival the Imperium, Hostillia, and Urdnotia,” Luo lectured him.

“Oh,” Carlson said disinterestedly.

“You will not make my job harder. I put up with dragging you along, so you’ll do as I say: stay away from her,” Luo hissed.

“All right, all right,” Carlson said, putting up his hand and stopping them where they walked. “You won’t see me with her again.” As Luo stalked off again, he mentally added ’Which is technically true.’

[Ghant]

Nathan

It was as if the world was empty and still, and in that void, there was only Claire and he, the Emperor of Ghant, at the mercy of her charms. He could sense the electricity of her hand upon his chest, and the fire of her lips so close to his ear, an excited gasp, ever so faint, ever so quaint. Again she drew her legs up between his in a highly provocative manner, going as far as to rub against him, before twirling away.

He had to expect what she was going to do in response to him checking out the pretty redhead with big tits dancing with King Taboro of Arrautsa, a man far more intelligent then he looked. At first glance the man would appear to be a brute, but he had a kind, gentle nature that didn’t give itself away on appearances alone. His admiration for the woman didn’t last long, as Claire met his gaze and placed a hand on his cheek that burned, although not the sort of burning that was painful. Of course, for a man like the Emperor of Ghant, such a display of affection was never enough…which was perhaps why on the next maneuver that brought them close together, she shifted in such a way that his hand ended up on her ass. Might as well give it a firm squeeze, he thought before groping it.

It seemed like forever, but eventually the tango came to a close, giving him the opportunity to be still for a few moments while the orchestra prepared the next piece. In the final maneuver, her leg was entwined with his, and her back pressed against him with his arm across her chest. He left his arm laying across her chest as a means of keeping her backside pressed up against him, the smell of her hair in his face. A perfect opportunity, he realized, to subtly grind against her backside, and nuzzle the back of her neck. "That dance was hot, Your Majesty. Really hot.

“Indeed it was, my lady,” he whispered in her ear as the waltz began to play. “It would be a shame to let the heat dissipate. Perhaps you would like a…private tour…of the palace? Away from all these…prying eyes?” There was no sense in beating around the bush. He spent enough time in his younger years to know when a woman was trying to fuck, and he would be lying to himself if he didn’t concede that he wanted to do the same. The way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she acted when his eyes caught another woman. He was feeling good…he was feeling high, and he wanted to get this girl out of the ballroom and into his bed posthaste, before anyone else noticed what was going on, besides Cassandra.

“Does that sort of thing interest you, my lady?” he asked again for good measure. She could have just been a tease, after all, some Imperium girl meant to blueball him as per the oil game they were trying to play. A fool’s errand that would have been, seeing as how that just would have sent him flying like a jet into the embrace of Gauedentia, or Alyssa Voor, eager as either were for his affections. Or even the busty redhead, whom he was quite eager to introduce himself to, but lamented the fact that he may very well not be able to meet. For as a wise man once told him, best deal with what’s in front of you, instead of what’s far away. At this present time, something was very close indeed…

Albert

The presence of the Thrall woman, Zara, was far too distasteful for Albert to suffer long. That, and the ignorance of his nephew. Nathan had, despite Albert’s warnings, restored Zara to a portion of her mother’s strength, with lands, titles and incomes, believing that by doing so, he could make her loyal and content. But what Thrall was ever loyal and content? They were like weeds, and watering a weed didn’t make it content…it only made it larger and stronger, and harder to pull out, root and stem.

“If you would excuse me,” he said to his companions, the Imperium gentlemen and the rest. He knew just as well as any that if they were to have any success with the oil deals against Adiron, that it would only happen with Edomite help. Thankfully, Edomites of high standing were present, and Albert knew where they were. So it was that off in that direction he went, loyal men in tow.

He found Prince Enoch Tubal-Cain with Ambassador Prince Amenmar speaking to one another, but didn’t know what about. It was enough to assume that it was about their intrigues, neither of which was lost on him. He knew that Amenmar had a certain affection for Empress Sophia…although what man didn’t, and he knew that Enoch played fast and loose with his marriage vows, and that he had a loathing for Michael of Dakmoor…but what man didn’t. It was strange to consider what Amenmar might do, given Sophia’s steadfast loyalty to Adiron, and his own government’s loyalty to Imperium interests. Perhaps it is time to find out.

“My Princes,” Albert said upon approach to Enoch and Amenmar, inclining his head gently, and flashing whatever look of politeness he could muster, no doubt belied by his furrowed brow and beady brown eyes. “How fares your evening of late? Much has changed since my last conversation with members of your esteemed nation, as you might recall. Now here we are, at a Ghantish ball of all things.” Albert helped himself to a glass of black wine, draining it thoroughly, thirsty as he was. There was still no sight of his wife, which was a most curious thing, but of little concern.

Zara

Lady Zara Thrall had eyes like a hawk, emerald green and seething about the room. Once Albert had departed her company, she was free of distractions, allowing her to take notice of things that escaped her previously. She observed Luo, who was watching something, that Zara herself then witnessed. His eyes grew wide at the sight of the Adiran named Carlson, as he danced with a lovely lady whose identity was lost on her. Although Zara didn’t know who the lady was, she seemed familiar.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Carlson came straight to the drinks table when the tango ended and the subsequent waltz began, with a gait as confident as his guise, dripping with swagger and the desire of a lusty man. “Do you have any idea who that was?” Luo asked him.

“A hot piece of ass, that’s who,” Carlson replied with a smirk.

Zara chuckled at that, finding his bluntness rather amusing. He certainly doesn’t lack for boldness of speech.

“That was Jacqueline Thrall, Crown Princess, heir to the throne of a nation part of FODE and whose human rights abuses rival the Imperium, Hostillia, and Urdnotia,” Luo lectured him.

Then it all made sense. Twas a Thrall, just like her…well, not just like me. Even still she was kinfolk all the same, of the line that cast her great-grandmother down and sent her packing to the frozen wastes of northern Ghant, where she began with nothing, and where Zara ended with lands and peoples…and oil.

She didn’t pay attention to the rest of what was said, as she was far too consumed with her own thoughts of the distant Thralls. A sudden thrill crossed her mind, the idea of dueling them, Jennifer especially, and casting the Thrall Empress down with her Arragard steel blade, taking all that she held dear and vindicating her grandmother’s claim, restoring their line to its rightful place. And yet, they have the power of an empire behind them, and I have next to nothing by comparison. Being the best warrior in all of Ghant meant little when compared to the might of a modern nation’s war machines. She had heard stories told of them, used against the enemies of the Matriarchal Empire. Dengali was not lost on her, even though she spent much of that trapped in her frozen keep, kept warm by fire pits and thick fur blankets.

Zara turned to Dean Luo and inclined her head. “What can you tell me of these Thralls, Ambassador? What is it you suppose they want? What is their endgame?” Everyone had an endgame, even those who might appear to deign otherwise. As the music of the waltz played, she took at least some satisfaction in knowing that for at least this night, there would be peace, people enjoying themselves and being merry. And then, upon the morrow, they will resume their power games.

[Arbites]

Travers Family

"Right now?" she said in a ragged whisper. She knew exactly what he was implying. So impulsive, and he had the power to act on it, too. There was a warmth which spread over her, more than just the alcohol. Everything about this was wrong. He was a married man, she was supposed to be chaste in penance...and that's what turned her on even more. "Lead the way, sir, but don't keep me waiting too long."

Unfortunately, Nathan had pushed the "overprotective dad" button. Kevin Travers had been watching the whole lewd performance with increasing shame and indignation. In the Imperium the tango itself was unsuited to high society, how exactly the dance ended up being performed at a royal ball was beyond Travers' ability to comprehend. The whole thing reeked of indecency, and the last straw was that squeeze. Worse in a way was that she didn't even rebuke him for it. Abruptly, Kevin set his drink down and took off from the drinks table at a brisk pace to intercept his daughter.

They were almost out of the ballroom when suddenly the pair heard "Claire, there you are." Turning around they saw Claire's father approaching them quickly, already on them. Claire grimaced, turning reluctantly to face her father. 'Oh shit, not NOW!' she thought. Kevin was wearing a thin smile, which seemed to fade whenever he glanced at his daughter.

"You disappeared on me, sweetheart," he said. The affectionate words were somewhat incongruous with his rather flat tone and expression.

"Father, may I..." she coughed lightly, clearing her throat. "May I present Nathan IV, Emperor of Ghant."

"An honor to meet Your Royal Majesty," Travers said. "Kevin Travers, Haywood Energy. It seems you've already met my daughter," he said, leveling a cold look at Claire.

Thinking quickly, Claire said "We met while I was touring the palace. He was...telling me about the tango. I heard he was rather known for it, I thought he could show me a thing or two. He was talking about how it is a dance of passion, where unless the two partners share a certain connection it is only an imitation."

"I see," Kevin said, disinterestedly. "Well I think you've probably taken enough of His Majesty's time for now, honey. You can always take more lessons when we get home, and I'm sure His Majesty's wife is likely wondering what's become of him." As he said the last part he glanced over at Nathan.

Claire kept trying to disentangle herself from her father. "Actually, he has offered to show me around the palace. Right, Your Majesty?"

Travers was unimpressed. "Claire, you disappeared when we first arrived saying you were going to look around the palace, how much more is there to see? Besides, I need to speak to you. Come, let's not bother His Majesty any longer, humor your old man with a waltz." It was not a request as he extended his hand.

She reluctantly took his father's hand, as they started to walk away she shot Nathan a longing glance indicating her desire had not subsided.

[Hittanryan]

Jessica continued to dance playfully, lacking the intensity of the others but no less spirited. She would improvise a little when the beat struck her, a kick here, an extra twirl there. Not wanting to get too handsy with the King, she was vivacious but not teasing or flirty, at least not with him. By the end of the dance her fair skin had started to glow, highlighting the smoothness of her shoulders and the curve of her splendid bosom. For fun, she finished the dance in a dramatic pose, leaning back while Taboro supported her; though anyone watching could see she even started to laugh at herself for doing it.

"Well, that was fun, Your Majesty," she said as she stood upright again. "Kind of wish we did something like that every year, but I guess I like all kinds of dances anyway." She then saw Jacqueline Thrall abruptly pull her boss into a passionate kiss before he went back to his drink. Jess' jaw just dropped. "Holy crap..." she said, before covering her mouth in embarrassment. "Uh...OK then," she said, biting her lip nervously. She didn't know what to say to Taboro, but when she got back to the drinks table she playfully slapped Carlson's arm.

"Oooooooh, Mr. Carlson, what was that about?" she squealed, giggling a bit.

By this point Luo had dissuaded Carlson from pursuing the matter. "That's just part of the dance, Jess. Goes with the territory. You were no slouch either though."

"Yeah but I didn't plant one on him," she said, sticking her tongue out.

"Just the passion of the moment," he explained, looking over at Luo.

"Uh huh, sure Mr. Carlson," Jess said with a mischievous look in her eye. Carlson liked that look very much on her, but before he could act on it, she took a long sip from her mojito and like an easily-distracted puppy was off again, available if anyone wanted to ask. So far Enoch had intrigued her the most, she knew the signals he'd sent her, only to get all aloof again once they had a dance. Maybe she could tease it out of him. Walking up to Enoch, she said "Hey, gotten anything to drink yet, sir? What do you say to another dance?"

[New Edom]

Jessica

Prince Enoch and Prince Amenmar stared at her a moment, appalled, though they covered it with p9olite reflexive smiles. . Barsina sensed her master’s startled reaction and began to flash her teeth in disapproval. Was it this female? Shouldshe challenge her right to approach? She looked at Amenmar for confirmation, but he stroked her long black and white fur to calm her and murmured to her soothingly in Baran.

“Miss McKay,” said Prince Enoch. “I have supped and drunk extremely well. The hospitality of the Ghantar is unparalleled. I can compare it to little else.”

“Now now,” said Prince Amenmar.

“I don’t believe that you’ve been presented to this gentleman…Prince Amenmar, may I present Miss Jessica McKay, from Adiron, Miss McKay, Prince Amenmar Ungolin, the Ambassador to the Imperial Court in Ghish—and his little friend Barsina.”

Prince Amenmar inclined his head politely. “Such a great pleasure Miss McKay.” Barsina eyed Jessica warily. “Is it customary for Adiran ladies to invite gentlemen to dance?”

“Adirans are most particularly egalitarian in the most liberal democratic tradition,” said Prince Enoch with a smile. “I warn you, Miss McKay—the next dance on the programme is the Tennessee Waltz, which is about hearts broken and stolen—but I defy augury, so I will dance with you. Until later, my friend.”

“A bienot,” replied Prince Amenmar as Enoch led Jessica out onto the floor. Then the ambassador looked with grave expression and feigned polite interest in the direction whence he had last seen the Empress. He had seen the scene with Nathan and Claire, and thought, “Serves nyou right. Eat your liver, you bastard.”

Enoch loved to waltz, and it showed as he led Jessica out onto the floor, bowed to her, and swept her along with graceful confident steps. Though he wore a sword it somehow never got in the way or hit her legs, and while aware of other couples on the floor he seemed to only be aware of his enjoyment of the dancing and the pleasant company he kept.

“Having a nice time?” he asked her. “Dance with anyone interesting?”

[New Elizabetta]

Lord Edward Derby, dressed in the height of current New Elizabettan fashion of a three piece suit of harlaquin patterned diamonds yellow and orange, a tie of flat green, white shoes and carrying a cat headed cane, entered the ballroom. behind him strode his wife Lady Sarah Derby, dressed in a eyewateringly bright yellow dress, with diamond earrings & necklace, also carrying a cane this one topped by a golden cat head.
Two discretely dressed gentlemen in black suits slipped in the room behind them and faded against the walls.
Lord Derby looked around the room & smiled. after the second civil war had split Elizabettan Society, they had traveled far to established New Elizabetta under King Edwin II. He relished the chance to establish new friendships, far more than trade & political agreements.
He took two drinks from a passing waiter & passed one to his wife. they stood sipping the fine champagne whist listening to the music.

[Ghant]

Teresa

The herald announced some fashionably late arrivals, much to Teresa Zuria’s delight. “May I present, Lord Edward Derby and Lady Sarah Derby, of the Kingdom of New Elizabetta.” Teresa looked on with a bright, wide smile as they emerged into the antechamber, the sound of the new waltz playing. Lord Derby was wearing a three piece harlequin suit, with a yellow and orange diamond pattern. He was quite colorful, with a green tie, white shoes and a cane to boot.

His wife, Lady Derby, was wearing a yellow dress, with matching diamond earring and necklace and a cane as well. They came with security…two men in black suits walking in behind them. A waiter was doing the rounds in the antechamber and the ballroom floor periphery, with a tray of drinks. Lord Derby helped himself to the wares, offering one to his wife. As they drank they stood still…long enough for Teresa to greet them formally.

Teresa approached them, and gave a deep, dignified curtsey. Her dark green dress was without embellishment, as was her poise. Her red hair was in a bun, and her brown eyes flickered as she looked down during the course of her curtsey. “My Lord, My Lady, welcome to the Midsummer Ball here in Ghish, seat of the Emperor. I bid thee welcome, and I hope that you enjoy your time…”

“Oh, hey there,” Margaery Hyla said to the Lord and Lady as she approached Teresa, her mother. Teresa, upon noticing her nineteen year old daughter approached, winced slightly, fully anticipating her saying something stupid and embarrassing.

“My Lord, My Lady, his is my second daughter, Lady Margaery.” The girl looked like her mother, with her red hair, but her eyes were blue like her father’s, and she had a curvatious young woman’s body, that she wasn’t afraid to showcase with her steamy gown with its deep v cut in the front, and without a back…as well as a cut on the side so her leg could pop out.

Turning to her daughter, Teresa asked Margaery, “what’s going on? Is something amiss?”

“…Nathan was dancing the tango with some Impish girl named Claire. She’s pretty cool…they were dancing awfully intimately, and he groped her behind. I wonder…I think what they say about him and Gaudentia might be true,” Margaery whispered to her mother.

“Now’s not the best time for this conversation, Margaery,” Teresa told her daughter with narrowed eyes. “Not while I am welcoming esteemed guests. Go find Arietta…”

Margaery shook her head. “Can’t do that. She’s with her boyfriend and his family. She left us to see to that. I was with Cici of Axionnes, but we got separated. I was looking for her when I saw Nathan, and thought I should tell you…just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Teresa probed, offering a smile to the Lord and Lady.

“Just in case something awkward happens between Nathan and Sophia’s family. You know how Martin feels about those rumors as far as his sister is concerned…”

“Oh, you mean more awkward than what’s happening right now?” Teresa pressed her daughter, casing her to wave a hand.

“You know what, mom? Forget it.” Margaery turned to face the Lord and Lady. “Pleasure to meet you, enjoy the ball, and the drinks.” Then she walked away, swaggering in her backless gown.

“Please forgive my daughter…she can get quite excitable at such events,” Teresa assured the new arrivals, before turning an eye towards the floor, in the hopes of seeing her nephew, the Emperor of Ghant…

Nathan

"Right now?" Claire asked the Emperor with a ragged whisper, before continuing with, "Lead the way, sir, but don't keep me waiting too long." The look on Nathan’s face was like a boy who woke up to find out it was Christmas morning. He smiled wide with twinkling eyes and cheerful guise, ready to unwrap his new toy…

"Claire, there you are." Turning around to the sound of the voice, Nathan observed who he assumed was Claire's father, who had emerged upon them quickly. …Damnit. Whatever the man wanted, Nathan doubted it was in his own interests. He wanted to fuck the Arbiter girl, which her father would no doubt attempt to prevent. "You disappeared on me, sweetheart," he said with a faint smile. He didn’t seem sincere in his speech…

"Father, may I..." she coughed lightly, clearing her throat. "May I present Nathan IV, Emperor of Ghant." At that, Nathan couldn’t help but incline his head and look regal, as if to provide some semblance of reassurance to her father, which he assumed was more than likely to fail.

"An honor to meet Your Royal Majesty," Travers said. "Kevin Travers, Haywood Energy. It seems you've already met my daughter," he said, shooting a cold look to his daughter.

“The honor is mine, Mr. Travers,” Nathan answered in his not so perfect, but serviceable English accent. “Seldom do I meet those from your country of such high standing.” As Gaudentia once told him, Flattery will get you everywhere.

Claire then said, "we met while I was touring the palace. He was...telling me about the tango. I heard he was rather known for it, I thought he could show me a thing or two. He was talking about how it is a dance of passion, where unless the two partners share a certain connection it is only an imitation."

"I see," Kevin said, appearing somewhat disinterested. "Well I think you've probably taken enough of His Majesty's time for now, honey. You can always take more lessons when we get home, and I'm sure His Majesty's wife is likely wondering what's become of him." As he said the last part he glanced over at Nathan.

Claire responded, with a sense of urgency. Like a fly, she seemed eager to escape her father’s web. "Actually, he has offered to show me around the palace. Right, Your Majesty?"

Travers was unimpressed, and responded before the Emperor could. "Claire, you disappeared when we first arrived saying you were going to look around the palace, how much more is there to see? Besides, I need to speak to you. Come, let's not bother His Majesty any longer, humor your old man with a waltz." It didn’t seem like much of a request, as his hand was extended.

Nathan cleared his throat, and answered. “That is correct. I encountered Lady Claire while she was spending time with my sister, cousins, and other highborn ladies of an age with her. Claire has been very helpful in terms of aiding my knowledge of your country, and has been a shining example of a proper young lady. I find her company to be quite enjoyable for such reasons as it please you, sir. I was savoring the opportunity to show her around the Palace, if only because the time spent could be time for me to learn more about the Imperium, which I know so little about. After all, there are some...crucial business dealings taking place that I will need to weigh in on, and the more I learn about your country, the better position I will be in to make the most well informed decision regarding those interests.” Smiling widely at him, the Emperor continued. “Yet, by all means, enjoy a dance together as father and daughter. I will be around.”

As Claire appeared reluctant, she took her father's hand all the same, walking back out to the floor for the waltz. As they did so, she shot the Emperor a longing glance, which he returned. Next time he had the opportunity, he was going to whisk her away, but for now, he needed to find something else to do. He thought of the busty redhead, and like a dog sniffing a game trail, he went off in search of her. She had danced with Taboro of Arrautsa, but that had since subsided, with the King now waltzing with some Nazur girl, and the redhead off somewhere else…

God damnit! Nathan found her, now dancing with Enoch Tubal-Cain, his brother-in-law Michael’s supposed nemesis. A part of Nathan liked Enoch for that, for both of them seemed to enjoy tormenting the dashing Prince of Dakmoor, now with Princess Jocasta of New Edom as his lovely bride. Not so fun to torment anymore. Alas, the redhead with big tits was preoccupied for now, and so, Nathan went to Plan C. Alyssa Voor… Voor girls were eager to please Gentry Princes, having been famous for that going back nearly eight hundred years now. Alyssa was the one that seemed the most interested, having practically begged for his attentions earlier in the evening. Vigor wouldn’t be lost upon him this night, one way or the other…

“Enjoying yourself?” A familiar voice called out, causing Nathan to turn around. Twas his Uncle Albert, standing not so far away from Ambassador Prince Amenmar, who was known for his affections for the Empress. Nathan suspected that the Ambassador didn’t have a very high opinion of him…for between the Emperor’s previous dealings with Deadora, his rather lukewarm sentiment towards New Edom and his…cavalier attitude towards his marriage vows, Amenmar truly had little reason to hold Nathan in high esteem.

“Quite, uncle. How are things? We have not spoken since Perrin’s funeral. I recall dissuading you from some war plans,” Nathan grinned, but not too much. Uncle Albert was a man that even still, instilled fear and apprehension in the Emperor.

“I didn’t need much dissuading. Half of the region was poised to move against me had I acted. I wasn’t about to have them all take me for a fool. So I stayed my hand, and trusted in this joint regency proposal that Martin came up with. Now here we are, it all having worked out, and Jocasta has her Dakmaran Prince,” Albert went on.

“Yes, it worked out quite well for everyone. Even the ETC. Stories of Ghantish valor in the field at Harbortown have inspired faith in our military capabilities. We treated out captives with dignity, unlike those dog Hutanijans. Were it not for my fondness for Jocasta’s cause, I would have publicly blasted them for their carelessness,” Nathan practically snorted.

“You’re one to talk about moral high ground,” Albert chastised his nephew. “I didn’t believe these rumors about you and your infidelity until I saw you grab that Imperium girl’s ass like it was the grip of a sword. You clearly lust for other women…tell me true, have you lost your mind?”

Nathan shook his head. “No, far from it in fact. It’s the tango, Uncle…what do you expect? It’s meant to be sexually charged. If it’s not, you are not doing it right.”

“Don’t be impertinent with me, boy,” Albert snapped. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? The Dakmarans will go to whatever extreme necessary to preserve their position, and they won’t suffer slights to their honor. Now that a son, two sons for that matter, have been born to Sophia, what use are you if you don’t please her? They could see you dead, and then your infant son is Emperor, with Sophia as Empress Regent for the next eighteen years.”

“…I think you underestimate Sophia’s fondness for me,” Nathan was quite fast to point out. “So long as she is Empress, she will see to it that no harm comes to me from within her…father’s camp.”

“Don’t be so sure. Malibar has on several occasions openly defied her when they are of a difference of opinion. Perhaps you recall the split in the Jaunekextea between supporting Mara and Jocasta. Sophia supported Mara, but that didn’t stop Malibar from declaring for Jocasta and rallying his banners to that end. He was practically daring her to move against him, which she didn’t.”

“Exactly. Nobody moved against anyone, and in the end it was northing more than flared tempers and fiery rhetoric. Now look…everything is good, uncle. Peachy peachy.”

“You certainly have gotten cheeky over the years,” Albert was unimpressed. “Tell me true…are you unfaithful?”

Nathan looked around, and leaned in close. “I have laid with Gaudentia Ovida. She is with child…my child, and I have taken her for an Ohaide, in the tradition of the Jainkozahar. I have found that by doing so, much of the tension that existed between Sophia and I has since…dissipated.”

“So it is true then. Dare I say then, that you are a fool. I tried to raise you to be loyal, steadfast and true, but it would appear as though I have failed. You have always been weak-willed, eager to please and loathe to say no. Now some Roman bitch sinks her claws into you, and no doubt Sophia is left to brood over the betrayal. Don’t be surprised to wake up one day with a knife pressed to your throat, having outlived your usefulness to those who keep you from an early grave.”

“And what of your opinion on the matter?” Nathan asked his uncle, now beyond irritated. First he was blueballed and cockblocked, now he was getting lectured by a man that he spent the better part of the past decade trying to avoid.

“…When your father abandoned Elizabeth for your mother, I wanted nothing more than to wrap my hands around his neck and watch the life come oozing out of him. I didn’t approve of his actions, but I stayed my hands. Because he was my brother…he was my family. You may spend the rest of your life dallying about with the Dakmarans, or this woman or that while the lords of Ghant mock you in their cups, but you will always be a Gentry. That is who you are, and that is your family. Don’t forget that…when everything else seems to closing in around you, the power of your House will be what saves you.”

“And when have you ever cared about family, uncle? When did you care about family when you tormented me? You didn’t need to be so cruel, and yet you were all the same, because why? It amused you? Did it bring you pleasure, seeing me beat?”

Albert gave his nephew a cold stare. “No. I didn’t want to do any of that. I did it because it was what needed to be done. You were always a weak, lazy, impulsive boy. You would have made a poor Emperor had I not at least tried to instill upon you some semblance of strength and discipline. You may never admit it, but I don’t really care if you do. You are still alive now, and wiser for it. King Jacobe would have laid you low, had I not trained you the way I had. Life isn’t all featherbeds, comforts and the loving arms of women. It is power, it is war, it is death. If you don’t realize that by now, then I truly failed. But if you see what it is, and seem prepared to recognize it, then I did my job. I don’t want your gratitude. I want to see you alive, and our country strong. That depends on you.”

“…Indeed it does, uncle,” Nathan grimaced as he turned to walk away. “Indeed it does.”

[Brytene]

"The Midsummer Ball"
A little late, but fashionably so
Eorl of Nortymba Uhtred of Deepdale, and Jarl Aoife Brighteye of Dyflin

Aoife, Jarl of Dyflin, was still moving slowly. It had been more than a month since her showdown with the Inyurstan Colonel Nuelle, and the bullet wound to her lung was well on its way to recovery, but no-one shakes an injury like that off with impunity. Her breath was still shorter than it should be, her chest still pained her, and she had lost muscle mass during her stay in hospital, although she was beginning to recover it as she began her physio. Dressed in a surprisingly tasteful outfit, a rich red evening dress which set off her thick golden hair, let loose to curl in waves down past her shoulders, and sparkling blue eyes, she managed to maintain an air of grace despite her wound, striking quite the figure at an impressive 5"7. Her face was long and serious, though it lit up when she smiled, with high cheekbones, delicate eyebrows, full lips and a small nose. She wore no jewellery, other than a small pair of ruby earrings, modest and tasteful.

Beside her, his arm linked through hers, was Uhtred of Deepdale, Eorl of Nortymba and close confidante of the Bretwalda. He was taller than her by almost seven inches, with a crop of dark blond hair and blue eyes to match those of his date, though where hers sparkled, his were a rich sea-blue, flecked with dark navy. Where her face was delicate, his was heavy, with low, solid cheekbones, a jutting Roman nose, and a jaw hidden beneath a short, dark beard, a full moustache over his upper lip. Ever the nationalist, he wore the 'court dress' of Brytene, a richly embroidered tunic of deep navy underneath a much more conventional black overcoat, cut to stylish modern lines. Silver patterns, intricately depicting a variety of hunting and battle scenes, along with various runes of Adfyr, lined the hems and cuffs of the tunic, whilst his bare forearms glittered with arm rings and finger rings, and at his neck hung a heavy golden lightning bolt of Thunor. His boots were high black leather, with silver filigree and silvered laces.

Between them, they spoke for almost 20 million citizens of Brytene, close to a third of the entire population of the Confederacy. They were both military veterans, Aoife a former pro-baseball player and Uhtred the owner of a large and successful brewery, but today they were simply guests, two friends out to enjoy a fine evening of dancing, music, and delicious food, laid on by the fine nations of Ghant and New Edom. The pair were laughing as they entered, though who had told the joke it was impossible to tell. Uhtred's overcoat was gone in an instant, whisked away by a faceless staff member to be hung in the no-doubt cavernous wardrobes of the palace.

Casting his gaze over the assembled dignitaries, Uhtred allowed himself a little laugh.
"Why are we here again? I'm sure these people are all very important, probably more so than us, but I've never even heard of half of them. I can't even see the happy couple!"
Aoife was a little lost for words - torn between amusement at some of the more pompous outfits, and genuine awe at the style and taste on display, but she quickly gathered a response.
"We're here because you promised to show me a good time, Eorl Uhtred. I do hope you're a man of your word." she said, her tone the verbal equivalent of a salacious wink. Uhtred laughed. Aoife was famously outspoken, indeed she had first made international headlines by duelling a Nihonese general who had taken offense at her irreverent tone, but that man lay dead and now the beautiful Aoife was at Uhtred's side, gently raking him with her barbs, just lightly for now. Without a doubt, she would leave him bloodied by the end of the evening...

[Tericio]

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[Ghant]

Zara

Zara watched and waited for Mercede to respond to her probing with a look of amusement. Mercede looked up from the rim of her glass with a look of surprise, arching an eyebrow. "My concerns, Lady Thrall? I concern myself with the government, and with the State. Beauty- yes." She nodded. "I concern myself with the beauty of efficiency, operation…" she continued, before smirking. "I am concerned with duty to Tericio, and the service of the Doge." Mercede glanced at the Doge and laughed once more. "Pardon the sermonizing. And I take it you take concern for the beautiful as well, Lady Thrall?"

Lady Thrall shook her head. “I concern myself with those things that nourish we northerners. Patu, justice, and retribution. To correct wrongs when they are committed, and to restore things to rights that had been undone. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder after all, and I behold beauty in justice. You serve your Doge well enough I am sure of that, otherwise I doubt he would have much use for you.” Unless of course he has other uses for you…

Doge Carlos smirked then, and said, "I would think so, Mercede. She philosophizes about her own beauty," followed by a devilish grin that Zara found offputting.

This caused Zara to laugh. “You presume too much, Doge. I am hardly a philosopher…I find such musings to be of little consequence. I have often found that a sword in hand is more effective at achieving change than prattling on about the moral and ethical ramifications of what to do and how to go about doing it.”

“…How one achieves their objectives is just as important as achieving them outright,” Lady Elen Voor said upon return from visiting her extended family. “The ends do not justify the means. That is why your great-grandmother found herself branded and cast down, only to wash up on the shores of Thule to make common cause with traitors and outlaws.”

Zara grinned, casting eyes between Elen and her son Carlos. “That’s rich, coming from a Voor. Your ilk crossed the Sea of Ghant with Eric Magnussunn and helped him usurp the Obsidian Throne from the Gentries, gaining you lands, titles and incomes. A funny thought, to have gone from peasants wallowing in some shit-stained village in Allamunnika to powerful lords of Ghant in a single stroke. What’s more funny, is that the Voors thanked the Magnussunns with treachery and betrayal, working against them to restore the Gentries and then proceeding to lick their boots for the next seven hundred years until their tongues turned black. So don’t lecture me about being a traitor, Lady Elen. You may be the Doge’s mother, but you are a Voor all the same. Good for licking boots, climbing cocks and biting the hand that feeds.”

As Elen Voor had a look of shock on her face at having her House insulted to her face, in front of her son the Doge of Tericio no less, new comers had arrived at the ball. “Eorl Uhtred of Deepdale, Representative of Nortymba Canton, and Queen Aoife Brighteye, of the Kingdom of Brytene,” the herald shouted, as a man and woman made their approach to the ballroom through the antechamber. Zara smirked, knowing full well who Aoife Brighteye was…

Teresa

Teresa, as was the case with the lord and his ladywife from New Elizabetta, took note of the Brytene pair as they made their entrance. The first was Lady Aoife, whom as far as Teresa was aware was a noted warrior, having won at least a few duels, but not without cost. All the same, warrior that she was, she was also a lady of great grace and beauty. She was wearing a red evening dress that contrasted with her blonde hair, worn loose and falling in curls past and about her shoulders. She had certainly earned the moniker Brighteye with her enchanting blue eyes. Much like Teresa’s nephew Nathan, Aoife had a long and serious face, and a certain irreverence about her.

Her companion was Uhtred of Deepdale, who compared to Aoife was taller, also with blonde hair and blue eyes, but darker on both accounts. His outfit appeared to be official court dress…a tunic embroidered with runes, battle scenes and other features sure to make many a Ghantar feel some appreciation, for they themselves were hardly different in terms of emphasis of display. All the same, Teresa had her charms about her, and strode forth with a confident gait to greet them.

“My Lord and Lady, a pleasure to have you here, at the Midsummer Ball. Ghish is made brighter by your presence,” Teresa said with a smile and a dignified curtsey, back straight and inclined head. As a waiter made the rounds in the antechamber to deliver drinks to those who might be lurking in its bowels, so too did another imperial servant step forward to ensnare Uhtred’s overcoat, to be hung up in one of the antechamber’s gaudy, cavernous wardrobes…a favorite hiding place for children, Teresa heard it said.

Wanting to make at least some degree of small talk, Teresa asked the most basic of questions. “How fares Cenwulf of late, and your nation? Forgive me for saying that I am not intimately familiar with either.” It was true that Teresa, while the most studious and well read of her sisters (Caroline could never hold a book for longer than five minutes, and Carla, while intelligent, read only when it was necessary), was not very worldly. She married young, played the role of dutiful wife to a great lord and mother to his children, and traveled seldom, if only because she never got the opportunity, and when she might have, she did other things instead. Like keeping my unruly children out of trouble. Her oldest three, Flavius, Desmera and Margaery were the trouble makers of her brood…the rest were quite well behaved by comparison.

It was then and not a moment sooner that Teresa noticed something that struck her as being out of the ordinary, moving in her general direction. She had a sneaking suspicion as to why he was coming, and she hoped it wasn’t why she thought it was. The boy certainly has a boldness about him, she thought of him as he approached. It will serve him well or send him to an early grave. Which one, of course, remained to be seen.

Nathan

The Emperor of Ghant could only suffer his Uncle Albert for so long before he had to abscond himself from his presence, if only to preserve his state of mind. Nathan might have been Emperor of Ghant, strong and bold and swaggering, but around Albert, he was nothing more than a sniveling, cowering child. And that will not do.

The tango had taken enough of him to where he decided without hesitation to forgo the subsequent waltz, if only to rest for a time until some other lady and dance beckoned to him. Already it was in full swing, with the orchestra playing their instruments festively, the atmosphere one of merriment. Pairs of lords and ladies, old and young, had taken to the floor and swirled around in their myriad of colored gowns and outfits. Had Nathan been epileptic, it might have even given him a seizure, or so he thought.

His security personnel were never far away, always lurking against the walls. The thought of his guards being wallflowers made him laugh. He knew all their names and a thing or two about them, for it was as his grandfather the late Emperor Albert said. These men will die for you if needs be. Don’t make them die for a stranger. There were the Zinpalak knights Damon Devlyn, Artur Ordos, Garamun Barranza, Denis Errok, Hothor Pudu, Erramun Zul, Luis Haro, Otho Oggoa, Alaric Santagar, Denys Aldapa, Robar Dyn, Zandor Krull and Felipe Ziz, ready to respond at a moment’s notice to any signs of trouble.

There were also his faithful companions Lyl Bogardan, second son of Lord Bogardan, Nathan’s cousin Desmond Hyla, his sworn sword Rolli Ahateremu, and his northern guardsmen Bia and Tobo, gruff and quiet like ancient monoliths. Desmond and Lyl were dancing on the floor with some Izotzan girls, while Rolli had been helping himself to some red wine.

Nathan decided he was going to go talk to Rolli, since this was his first ball, given that he spent his life as a northern ranger hunting bandits in the vast northern expanse, an outlaw himself more or less. Yet, whilst en route to his sworn sword, he turned his head towards the antechamber, catching a glimpse of his Aunt Teresa…and…Oh my.

As if plucked straight out of his dreams and made flesh, there was Aoife Brighteye, Jarl of Dryflin. Nathan had followed her and her exploits for some time, since the days when she was a virtual unknown, cutting down her foes with her runic blade. He recalled all too well when she insulted the Shogun of Nihon after the latter criticized women who didn’t adhere to the Nihonese worldview. A view that Nathan considered ironic, considering the role of unscrupulous yet honorable Ghantish women in the history of Nihon, Komatsuhime being the most notable.

All the same, the Nihonese Army General Fujikawa challenged her to a proper duel in the Ghantish style, with swords. She accepted, and the event was televised for all the world to see. In Ghant, where Ghantish foreign policy greatly favored Nihon and its interests, many were rallying behind Fujikawa, rooting for him and wishing for his victory…even betting on him to the extent that he was the clear favorite. Yet, Nathan wanted Aoife to win, if only because he had a soft spot in his heart for gallant women of honor.

Sure enough, Aoife won her duel, laying Fujikawa low, but that was only the beginning of her woes, and Nathan’s own personal conflict of interests. Tensions between Brytene and SACTO began to escalate, with troubles between their embassies, cyber attacks, and the whole nine yards taking place in rapid succession. It culminated in June with Aoife inviting anyone from SACTO to duel her once more, in an attempt to settle the matter once and for all. All of Ghant was aware of Nathan’s own Trial by Combat in January, and given Ghant’s overwhelming support for SACTO, there was national demand for Nathan to answer her challenge and pick up his sword once more to cast her down.

It was conveyed to him on several occasions during meetings of the Privy Council, where Deputy Prime Minister Kattalin Eguskine, herself a friend of the Shogun from a visit she made to Nihon, urged him to answer the challenge. “This Queen Aoife is a threat to our international interests, and even now provokes and goads SACTO, of which we are a steadfast member. She has summoned a challenge, and you have proven your ability. Go forth and cast this belligerent down. SACTO will praise you and solidify Ghant’s position within it, and the singers shall sing songs of your victory for all time.”

Yet, Nathan could remember his response as if it were yesterday. “And the songs would sing that I betrayed my heart, casting down a great and honorable beauty in the name of woebegone politics. History would remember me as a villain and a traitor to my heart. For such a woman as she makes the world brighter by her presence, and who am I to put out its flame, when I would rather have it warm my spirit?”

Indeed, Nathan’s decision to not fight Aoife on behalf of SACTO was one that earned him the scorn of his government, but little did he care about their approval, so long as he did what he felt in his heart of hearts was right and true. She went on to duel Colonel Armando Nuelle of Inyursta, whom she defeated, but not without first being shot by him in the lung, no doubt still ailing her this night only a month afterward.

Now here he was, staring at this beauty whom in another life, he might have fought, and slain in the name of SACTO. Seeing her in person for the first time, he was glad he didn’t. He diverted his course in her general direction and that of his aunt, feeling a bit nervous even, though he did his best not to show it. He wondered if she even knew much about him, or how close he was to accepting her challenge to duel. Alas, his mind raced with thoughts of what he might say, and of poetry.

Warrior lady, dancer with death,
Of tender passions, are you bereft?
Perhaps it is the dance that you seek,
A man of boldness, not so meek.

Would you dance with one, such as me?
Or would you not, and rather flee?
I can handle a lady as well as a sword,
For I am not just a warrior, but a lord.

She who fights valiantly for honor,
Against those who wish to harm her
Rest your weary head upon my shoulder,
For I, unlike the rest, wish to be your holder

A lord of all of Ghant,
For want of else, you shant.
To fight is to love, it is oft said,
So perhaps we shall battle, in my bed.

“Aunt Teresa,” the Emperor said upon arriving close to his aunt. “You look radiant as ever, a shame to not see you on the floor.”

Teresa smiled at her nephew’s flattery. “I find great pleasure in welcoming our esteemed guests to the ball, nephew. Such as they, Eorl Uhtred of Deepdale and Queen Aoife Brighteye of Brytene.”

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Nathan bowed ever so courteously to them both, now getting a good look at Aoife up close. She certainly was a woman of great beauty, that much was obvious to him. “My Queen,” he said softly as he reached to take Aoife’s hand, and kiss the back of it. “Tales of your valor are not unknown to me, and they are spoken of highly throughout the country, as is your beauty. Of the latter, I must confess that the songs do you little justice and fail to compare to the real thing.”

He turned to Uhtred and inclined his head. “Eorl, a pleasure. How fares the brewery of late? I have not had the pleasure of tasting your wares, although I hear it is a fine vintage.”

[New Elizabetta]

Teresa & Margaery

Lady Derby returns Teresas curtsey and curtseys also to Margaery, and thanks them for their welcome. Lord Derby takes Teresas hand and gently kisses her hand, as he also does to Margaerys.
" Ladies you delight us both with your welcome. Had I known that your nation held such radiant beauty I would have swum the ocean between us to get here sooner. I must also congratulate you on this most excellent champagne."
He turns to Teresa,
"Would I presume too much if I was to request a dance before this night is over?"

Lady derby excuses herself and wanders over towards the dance floor.

Lord Derby turns to Margaery.
" Perhaps I could also reserve a dance with you, if these old bones can keep up with the energy of youth."

[Valaran]

"The Union of Depature"

Erina

"I guess he does," Blacksen said happily. "If I'm not mistaken, he's the younger brother of your Emperor? iI'm sorry, I'm not really...an expert on your nation's rulers. I suppose he copes with the company somewhat better than my younger brother anyway...he's up in the bar getting drunk at the moment...oh he's 8 years old by the way." The Celari King's smile didn't falter as the dance slowed, nearing its conclusion. As the last faltering steps of he dance ended, Blacksen smiled at his attractive dancing companion and looked towards the rest of her group.
"So," he asked amusedly. "Do I, as the notice so happily informs me, have to 'escort you back to your chaperone?' I'm not sure you have one, do you?"


"Why yes; he is heir presumptive." And he would certainly make better company than a drunk child. But perhaps it was best not to offend royalty. Erina kept her sharp tongue for those closer to her. Precisely where it belonged. "He might need to be checked upon." Why was he here anyway? Who would bring someone to this, and only leave them upstairs, in easy reach of a bottle? But her maternal instincts were similarly suppressed. Tact overrode all, at least in these situations.

"That would be Prince William himself. If technicalities apply; I have never needed one until now." She straightened, and gave a long glance at the king. A smile almost played on her lips, but she thought better of that. "But I shall find my own way. Thank you for the dance, your majesty."


Justin

"Oh I fear to die every day of my life," Aniara said, entirely truthfully. She did fear to die. People wanted to kill her: when you're the leader of an international intelligence network, especially from a country which was as belligerent and contrevercial as the Haven, your life was at risk.
"But I fear it more than ever today," she added, pulling her body close unil it was almost touching Justin's. Inwardly, she smiled...she had him just where she wanted him now. "Because...I don't know the intentions of my would be murderer. I'd quite like, if you'd agree, to tie you up and forcefully interrogate you on the subject. Or..." she moved her face in closer, "...Or I could just give you every reason to want me alive."

If Justin had been drinking when he heard Aniara's words, he would have spluttered. As it was he almost did choke. Valaran girls didn't normally initiate things. And definitely that... directly. Her presence only made that more acute. He made his eyes meet hers. Not for the first time, he felt a need to kiss the woman pressing on him. He let his gaze fall on her.

"I can't deny a lethal intent." He kept his voice low, his gaze steady. "It would require a vigorous interrogation to be convincing. But I can trust you on that, can't I?" A smile crept upwards, the suggestion reaching into his eyes.

And then the dance was ended, and he slipped out from her grasp. Justin de sol Audley bowed, just enough to verge on respectful. He kept his eyes locked on hers, and walked away. The smart stride carried him into the crowd in moments. But the smile lingered.


William and Julia

The tides of conversation had ebbed, and it had left Prince William high and dry, bereft of the waters of gossiping and pleasantries that coursed through the hall. He turned to his charge, abandoned by her brother. Actually, they both had been left by Justin. That man always had a knack for finding his own path, leaving the less adept William behind. Leaving everything behind actually. Including his clothes, in most cases. "How are you finding this place then?", he asked Julia de sol Audley.

Julia considered the question seriously "Less stilted than I imagined, certainly much less so than the rules made it out to be. But... hierarchical. Everyone we've met here has their little issues and , and if you aren't already aware of everything, you are shut out." She looked slightly put out. "Some more than others."

"I couldn't agree more. Our courts, not that I frequent them, are a little different."

"You still seem to manage here," she pointed out.

William smiled. "Only off the coattails of my brother. Edric has weight here, mostly down to Alexia and Nathan. I get the residual influence from that. But I'm still not one of them. And they will remind me of that, whether they mean to or not."

"So... it seems we want other outsiders then?"

The prince brightened further. "Possibly."

"You two seem pensive." A new voice interjected, turning the heads of both. A tall woman in a plain purple dress stood behind them, one hand on her hip. "Is the company not lifting your spirits?"

William relaxed visibly. "Erina dear, how was your dance with his majesty?"

"Interesting enough." She deflected the question quickly, and moved on to other matters. "I trust Justin has found some beauty or other to consort with."

"No surprise there. He'll find his way back eventually... I imagine. Actually you'd probably know better than me - you always did spend more time with him."

"I happened to be in closer physical proximity, if that's what you mean. Mostly because you didn't attend the balls. And yes, he tends to do his own thing, while Edric and the others and I stayed in our little pack."

"The scourge of the ballroom."

Something tugged upwards at the corners of Erina's mouth. "Not exactly." William laughed.

"You did better than my bookish lot at any rate. Now, do we have any plans for tonight?"

"None at all. Freedom is blessing, remember?"

[Tericio]

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[New Edom]

Nathan

prince Amenmar was too veteran a diplomat not to easily manufacture a slight smile and a profound and courteous bow as the Emperor of Ghant spoke to him. "Majesty," he murmured. He did not have to stretch his imagination too much to guess at the content of any speech between Apbert and Nathan.

Furthermore, Amenmar had his spies in the palace, most did not even know they were spies, they just did some pillow talk or gossip, or even thought they worked for one Thanitsh person or other. Amenmar was but a humble servant of his country, his king and faith, polite and friendly, elegant and slightly eccentric, devoted to the Empress in a courtly love platonic fashion, at least as far as he had allowed anyone to know. He did not dislike Nathan as a man...hardly novel for a man of high birth and charm and good looks to be a bit of a rake, aft all...but it was his attitude towards his office that he disliked.


He suppressed beneath his coutprtesy his amusement at znsthsn bring casually blocked by Prince Enoch, and quietly watched as the Emperor now met with people of great station from Brytene, a state hostile to a number of the values of his own government and culture. But that mattered little in the Great Game, for it was also so with zghant...


TNathan should not have dueled Lalrty, and should have dueled Aoifr. In. A way that contrast summed up his displeasure eith the Emperor to a T.

[Hittanryan]

Jessica

Jess seemed to realize she'd made some kind of error by the pause which followed her appearance. She was supremely confused at first, what had she done? In an attempt to smooth things over, she basically went off whatever cues Enoch and Amenmar gave.

At first she thought it was because she didn't introduce himself to the man with the monkey...or the monkey for that matter. She remembered seeing on TV that Edomites bowed, so she did so, exposing a bit of pale cleavage as she did so. "Hi, it's nice to meet you, Ambassador, Your Highness. You know, with the white, he looks like he's got a little cape on, very stylish for a ball," she said, talking to Barsina.

“Is it customary for Adiran ladies to invite gentlemen to dance?”

'Maybe that's it?' Jess wondered. "Oh, well yeah, sometimes. But I figured, we'd danced before so I'd just...you know..."

Thankfully Enoch stepped in at that point. “Adirans are most particularly egalitarian in the most liberal democratic tradition,” said Prince Enoch with a smile. “I warn you, Miss McKay—the next dance on the programme is the Tennessee Waltz, which is about hearts broken and stolen—but I defy augury, so I will dance with you. Until later, my friend.”

"Hearts stolen, hmm?" she replied playfully, setting her drink down. "Guess I should be careful," she said jokingly as she took his hand. On the dance floor Jess was nimble and catlike, moving naturally almost like water. She stayed close to him as they turned, matching his steps, allowing him to pull her a bit closer if he dared.

“Having a nice time?” he asked her. “Dance with anyone interesting?”

"Yeah it's been fun! I love to dance. Let's see, I danced with Doge Falcone. He was a little bit awkward, but he meant well. Then I did the tango with King Taboro...you know, we didn't talk much. Mostly about dancing actually. So a doge and a king, stuck with a secretary, ha!" she said, flashing a brilliant smile. "Then there's you. I'm still making my mind up about you, Your Highness," she said with a teasing wink.

Tamburo

As the tango wound down, Tamburo was absorbed in the music, guiding her, stepping sometimes with her sometimes to reel her back in. Occasionally his hand found itself on her hips, or moving down her back, only to teasingly shift elsewhere. Nothing too forward, nothing like the Emperor, but enough to perhaps get her interested. When the music reached its final peak, he gave her a quick twirl or two before he leaned her back, supporting her back and holding her other hand. His eyes searched hers for just a moment before he averted his gaze, hand on the bare skin of her back.

Once the dance was definitively over, he lifted her back upright again. "Well, now that was a dance, though you must admit you were holding back a little. Now, do you intend to spoil me all night with your company, or should I find a good vintage to crawl in?" Tamburo asked with an impish grin. Still, he was a diplomat, he would be discreet and moved on from his little advance quickly as they walked.

"His Majesty was dancing with the Travers girl, looks like they're off to...wait..." he said, watching Kevin Travers immediately depart the table. "I think...we have an interception. What a shame," he said, a little wryly. "Claire Travers, daughter of Kevin Travers; awfully raunchy for one of those oh-so-pure daughters of the God-Emperor, don't you think? Her father's the CEO of Haywood, which makes him one of the Imperium's two oil oligarchs. Word is that under his watch organized labor has a lower life expectancy than a hemophiliac mayfly, courtesy of the Inquisition."

Eventually he retrieved his drink and seemed to spot a familiar face. Lady Moro in tow, he made his way over to Amenmar. "Ambassador, hello, I'm surprised I didn't bump into you two earlier. Good evening, Barsina," he said, addressing first the man, then the monkey. Looking after Jess and Enoch, he said "I see you've met one of our 'esteemed' representatives from the private sector. And I have to wonder what His Imperial Majesty planned on getting up to with his latest dance partner. Oh, forgive me, Prince Amenmar Urgolin, may I present Lady Sara Moro of Dakmoor, unless the two of you are already acquainted."

[Brytene]

Wanting to make at least some degree of small talk, Teresa asked the most basic of questions. “How fares Cenwulf of late, and your nation? Forgive me for saying that I am not intimately familiar with either.” It was true that Teresa, while the most studious and well read of her sisters (Caroline could never hold a book for longer than five minutes, and Carla, while intelligent, read only when it was necessary), was not very worldly...

Uhtred smiled, pleased with the flowery welcome and impressed that Teresa Zuria was familiar enough with Brytene to name the Bretwalda. He took her in in a moment's glance - a dignified, elegant woman, a little older but not by much, with striking red hair set off by a modest green evening dress, the perfect understatement. He and Aoife were unfamiliar with the Empire and, though they had done some preliminary reading, the intricacies of the court were entirely lost upon him - the vast networks of bloodlines, dynasties, and rivalries being far removed from the simple banners and houses of Brytene, already a fading custom in the light of the Confederacy. He had the distinct feeling that this arena might have been better suited to socialites such as Celeste Canillac, or her imposing father Sir Arthur, but they were both traditionalists through and through, and Catholics to boot. It would be a cold day in Haeds before he sent them to represent his country, especially in a nation such as Ghant, a stronghold of pro-SACTO sentiment...the Gods only knew what mischief those vipers would cook up if allowed to consort with the Ghantish nobility behind closed doors.

"The Bretwalda is quite well, Lady Teresa, thank you for your concern. I must say, Ghish is a splendid city, and the Ghantish people have been nothing but charming since we arrived."

Aoife was about to add her own sweet nothings, when...

“Aunt Teresa,” the Emperor said upon arriving close to his aunt. “You look radiant as ever, a shame to not see you on the floor.”

Teresa smiled at her nephew’s flattery. “I find great pleasure in welcoming our esteemed guests to the ball, nephew. Such as they, Eorl Uhtred of Deepdale and Queen Aoife Brighteye of Brytene.”

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Nathan bowed ever so courteously to them both, now getting a good look at Aoife up close. She certainly was a woman of great beauty, that much was obvious to him. “My Queen,” he said softly as he reached to take Aoife’s hand, and kiss the back of it. “Tales of your valor are not unknown to me, and they are spoken of highly throughout the country, as is your beauty. Of the latter, I must confess that the songs do you little justice and fail to compare to the real thing.”

He turned to Uhtred and inclined his head. “Eorl, a pleasure. How fares the brewery of late? I have not had the pleasure of tasting your wares, although I hear it is a fine vintage.”

Both Aoife and Uhtred offered a bow to the Emperor, Uhtred's a little deeper but both shallow compared to the obeisances one might expect from a Ghantish commoner. Aoife smiled politely, glancing back towards Teresa as Emperor Nathan IV of Ghant bowed to kiss her long-fingered hand, a little unsettled by the experience. Technically, Ghant was no larger than Brytene - indeed, in terms of population it was smaller, and the two nations moved in entirely different geopolitical circles, but still - the title of Emperor was one to make anybody stand a little straighter.

As the Emperor straightened, she got a better look at the man who ruled over 56 million people. She had heard rumours, people painting him as a wretched creature filled with bitterness and anxiety, whilst others gave the impression of a naive young man with a heart perhaps a little too large. Certainly, he was not quite the most impressive physical specimen she had ever seen, especially when compared with the burly ox that was Cenwulf Teorell, or the languid tiger beside her, but in her experience that counted for little - General Fujikawa was the largest man she had ever met, and he had the foulest soul she had ever had the misfortune to meet eye-to-eye. By contrast, Lt. Col. Saigo Kuribayashi of the Lantern Guard was one of the bravest, gentlest, and most loyal men she had ever met, and he was barely 5"5. Size was certainly not a reason to judge someone, nor was reputation - if people believed everything that was said about her, half the palaces and senates on the planet would be shut to her. She knew that he had been in a duel earlier in the year, and had heard sensational stories about a fire-whip and accusations of bloody murder, and so she favoured him with a smile as he spoke his pretty piece.

"You speak well, your Majesty," Aoife said, her tone light and a grin on her face "I am glad to hear that Ghant, and it's gallant Emperor, hold me in such high regard. In truth my exploits are not so grand. Fujikawa was a middling swordsman at best."

Uhtred, beside her, also had a faint smile fixed upon his face, but anyone with a knack for reading body language would have noticed the tall northman stiffen as the Emperor paid Aoife his compliments. He snorted quietly at Aoifes false modesty, then nodded as the Emperor turned to him.

"The brewery is doing quite well, your Majesty, thank you for asking. In fact, we have heard word that our principal client, the Green Dragon Tavern, are in talks to franchise several hundred locations across Ardoki, but I am considering whether or not to supply this venture - Ardoki is a confusing place, and such a large increase in output might jeopardise the quality of the draught."

He turned to gesture back towards the entryway, an expansive gesture that also allowed him to turn his right foot and place it slightly closer to Aoife, angling his body towards her.

"Speaking of which, I believe there is a case of Black Dragon ale in amongst the wedding gifts we have brought for the happy couple. I am sure that they would be willing to spare you and your lovely wife Sophia bottle or two..."

[Ghant]

Teresa

Teresa Zuria smiled in appreciation as Lady Derby returned a curtsey to herself and her daughter Margaery, thanking them for their welcome. Lord Derby, like a proper gentleman, took Teresa’s hand and gently kissed the back of it, before doing the same with Margaery. “Ladies, you delight us both with your welcome. Had I known that your nation held such radiant beauty, I would have swam the ocean between us to get here sooner. I must also congratulate you on this most excellent champagne."

For the first time that evening, Teresa blushed. “You are very kind to say so, Lord Derby. Seldom have I encountered a gentleman of your caliber from beyond these shores. Lady Derby is a fortunate woman to have a husband as gracious as thee.”

Margaery rolled her eyes, if only because court flattery was something that she found nauseating. In any event, Lord Derby continued, posing a question for Teresa. "Would I presume too much if I was to request a dance before this night is over?"

“Not at all,” Teresa blushed some more. “I would savor the opportunity. I thought that no one would ever ask!” Meanwhile, Lady Derby excused herself and began to approach the floor, no doubt awaiting a dance.

Lord Derby then turned to Margaery as she was leaving. "Perhaps I could also reserve a dance with you, if these old bones can keep up with the energy of youth."

Lady Margaery turned around and spoke with a furrowed brow. “Yeah…sure,” before turning and walking away.

“Forgive my daughter,” Teresa quickly attempted to answer for Margaery’s impoliteness. “She isn’t known for courtly manners, my Lord. My second daughter has a penchant for…irreverence and punctuality. Many years of trying to instill a sense of refinement have yet to take hold. She’s dense, like her father,” she chuckled, not meaning to make light of her lord husband but finding the opportunity to make a joke too hard to resist.

“Please, call on me when you wish to make good on your invitation to dance,” she beamed, observing newcomers that required a greeting. “I am available at your earliest convenience, although I must make short order of some other new arrivals.” Teresa needed a break from the antechamber. She was a proper and true Ghantish noblelady, born and raised, married and seasoned. The likes of her belonged on the floor with a lordly partner to share in the steps, to revel in the delight that was their upper echelon of society.

She was also always jealous of her older sister Caroline, a woman not as graceful, as courteous, as intelligent or as proper in any sense of the word. Yet, because Caroline was older, she always got more. More attention, more opportunities, more splendor…only to squander it all like pearls cast before a swine. At least I have always made the most of my opportunities, and done well with my lot in life. While Teresa never married a Crown Prince of Ghant, she had the respect and admiration of her peers, and for a night such as this, she could take pride in that. While my sister wallows in embarrassment and self-pity…

Caroline

Onnerian Holiday had ended, with the credits beginning to roll. By now the sitting room had thinned, with Sophia having had returned to the ballroom after Nymun’s early departure. Maria of Garza lingered, and the babies were resting…the Dusk Twins of Dakmoor, the Crown Prince of Gaemar sleeping still. That boy sleeps a lot. Sara and John were still cooing, while the Crown Prince began to fall asleep himself, tired from having spent his energy playing with toys and squirming like a mouse in a hawk’s grasp.

Caroline got up and very carefully set the heir down in his baby bed, before turning to figure out what to play next. Then she recalled something that Mrs. Luo had said to her. “My twins are of an age with your son, Carol. If you decide you want to stir your son from his room, I am sure that they would like to…wreak havoc together,” she laughed. “Your son sounds like my Charles, and Amelia too in some ways.” Her youngest daughter, it was oft said, was like her own aunt Benora, a wild girl who grew up to be a ranger, before marrying some bawdy northern lord. Caroline remembered as a little girl her aunt riding horses drunk through the streets of Zuria, and the truculent arguments that followed with father and grandfather.

“Mother,” a girl cried out from the entrance…Caroline knew who it was. The voice, soft and sweet and practically a mutter that strained the ears of the hearer. Twas her daughter Alexia, tall and willowy with long black hair and deep blue eyes. It was only when Caroline turned to see her that for the first time, she noticed the resemblance between Alexia and Marie Izaaksunn…it was astounding. Roughly the same age, with the same dark hair and both with blue eyes, although Alexia had a face quite forlorn and forboding. Even in her happiest moments, the girl had a pensive guise…sad even. The resemblance was totally coincidental…unless Malibar fucked the other Caroline too…

“What is it? Is everything alright?” Caroline asked her daughter. “I just put the alpha baby to bed, and the movie is over. Now I need to find a new one.”

“…We talked about the pamphlets,” Alexia confessed to her mother. “Alois of Vorindun admitted he was responsible for the first one, but not the second one…”

The Dowager Princess’s face turned red, and she could feel her Ahenobarban fury rising. “…Who is we?”

Alexia began to stammer…she knew that look her mother gave, like she was wanting to strangle something. Which isn’t far from the truth. “There was grandfather, Uncle Chris, Diego of Garza, Valerian of Rome, Kaiser Martin and Alois, Alexandra, William of Valaran, some of his nobles, the Baltkalns twins, Martin of Dakmoor and Natalie of Gavinium and briefly there was Amelia and Hulang too.”

That was quite a lot to take in. “And all of them are aware of these disgusting pamphlets…and of Alois’s admission to the first, but not the second?”

“…Yes, mother. That’s the truth of it,” she nodded.

“And how was it that Alois was able to be coaxed into his admission?”

“He was pressed for it by Alex and I after he began to speak ill of Michael, Jocasta, and Nathan.”

Caroline snorted. “I don’t want you, or your sisters around that scoundrel. He is treacherous and a known deviant. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he was responsible for the second one as well…”

“But he’s not,” Alexia shook her head. “He swore to his brother that he wasn’t. When I saw he and Martin together I saw truth and loyalty between brothers that would make his word quite true.”

Sighing, she shrugged, realizing that if Alexia had any talent in this world, it was for being honest and knowing honesty when she saw it. “Very well. It was probably one of Albert’s minions. God knows he has a few in Fineberg as he does in Ghish. Watch Amelia…I don’t want her being preyed upon by that freak from Akai.”

“I shall do what I can, mother. I just thought you should know an update regarding the pamphlets. I hope that they will not impact things with Valaran…”

Valaran. Caroline recalled Edric well enough, cheeky boy that he was. “William of Valaran…that’s his younger brother and heir, is it not?”

“Yes, mother, that is he.”

“Good. I will speak to him.” Caroline gathered up the skirt of her gown and narrowed her eyes as she began to approach the ballroom for the first time that evening. “You would be amazed what you can learn about a person by interrogating their siblings.”

“Please don’t embarrass me,” Alexia quivered. “I like Edric and don’t want you to scare him away.”

“If the boy is so easily scared off, then I pity him. Not just for the eligible young ladies of the world, but for Valaran.” With that, she strode out with a confident gait, her blood still surging hot through her veins at all of this pamphlet talk. It enraged her to no end thinking about it, so she tried not to.

The guards were wise enough to open the doors for her, as everyone in the Palace knew better than to impede the Emperor’s mother once she was on a mission. She was on the move, looking around the periphery in the hopes of finding someone that could help her find the Prince…

“You,” she pointed at her nephew, Desmond Hyla. “Nephew! Where is William of Valaran? You know what he looks like? Have you seen him?”

Desmond was caught off guard. “…Hello Aunt Caroline. Uh…yeah…I saw him…come in and speak in that large group…he’s…uh…over there,” he pointed at William, talking to a pair of girls.

“Thank you Desmond. Such a good boy.” With that, Caroline darted in that direction, and like a carrion bird upon something dying, she swooped in on William of Valaran, and the two ladies in his company.

“Prince William of Valaran, I presume?” Caroline observed the proper courtesies, showing off a graceful curtsey that seemed parts stiff and some parts fluid. “And ladies, you both look lovely this evening. I happen to have the honor of being Caroline Zuria, Princess Dowager of Ghant. You might know my son, the Emperor, and my daughter Alexia…whom your brother has been courting. Yes…I met him once myself, when he came to visit Ghish after your Prime Minister harassed her and made idle threats.” That was her overprotective motherly instinct beginning to show, which caused her to take a deep breath. “Are you enjoying yourselves?” There…that’s better.

Zara

The exchange between Zara and Elen left an almost comical scene for Zara to bear witness to. Mercede’s jaw dropped, and her eyes widened in an almost animated fashion, her glass set down on the bar with a clink. Carlos' face drained of its color, and he looked horrified. Then he spoke. "Lady Thrall, such slander of the Ducal Mother of Tericio will not be tolerated, particularly in front of her family and son."

Zara smirked, finding it amusing. Dishing out insults but then finding grave offense when they are returned. He certainly is half-Voor. She didn’t respond, merely standing quiet and casting eyes between the three of them. Elen was still and stiff as a statue, seemingly letting it soak in.

The Doge continued. "For the sake of future interaction and present company, I will not witness such a degrading exchange again."

“You won’t have to, your Grace. I was just leaving.” Zara bowed, instead of curtseying, and left the three of them to their devices.

Elen

Carlos inhaled slowly. Elen knew her son well enough to know that it was his way of calming down. "Mother, if we may?" He smiled and put out his hand, gesturing to the sitting area across the ballroom.

“Of course, dear.” Elen took his hand and began to walk towards the sitting area. “I am sorry if I embarrassed you. I am your mother, and I will always feel the need to protect you, especially from the likes of that Thrall girl. Not even three years ago she was a brigand, and comes from a line most foul. The nation of her origin is a dangerous place where you would be nothing more than a slave! I could not sit idly by and listen to the sound of poison dripping from her mouth.”

Feeling the need to explain her family’s position, she recalled her history. “House Voor did raise their banners against the Magnussunns, but not without good reason. It is true that we Voors came from nothing, from some desolate village in Draakurr, in Allamunnika, with little next to nothing to our names, aside from perhaps a hut, some pigs and some crops. Then when Eric Magnussunn, Prince of Draakurr organized a force to sail for Ghant and make good his claim upon the Obsidian Throne, our ancestor, some levy with only the most rudimentary equipment at best, went with him. It was only through sheer loyalty and valor on the battlefields of southern Ghant that he earned his reputation, and his knighthood from Eric, who had won the Obsidian Throne and called himself King. The Voor Knight married a nobleman’s daughter, and their son became the first Lord Voor, which rich lands in Gaemar that produced great harvests.”

A sigh first, and then she continued. “The Voors served the Magnussunn kings well and good, in spite of their infighting and incompetency. It was only towards the end, with the last king Magnus, that we learned the truth of the matter. They Magnussunns had become unworthy of our loyalty. King Magnus cut off his own father’s head whilst he sat the throne and took it for himself, and badly mistreated the smallfolk and the lords alike. Even we Voors, as loyal and true a house as they came, suddenly found ourselves treated like dogs, and mistreated. When the war came, most of the southern houses deserted his cause for the Gentries. Lord Andar Voor decided, then and there, that he would not condemn his house for a corrupt king from a tainted line unworthy of his sacrifice, so he rose his banners for the Gentries. They were noble and true, from that moment and after they cast the last Magnussunn king down and restored their dynasty which still rules today.”

She smiled then, nearly upon the sitting room. “We came to Ghant as levies to die in the van, and the Magnussunns thought, from that day until their last, that we were nothing more than their lapdogs. So I ask, is betraying someone who is not worthy of your loyalty, such a bad thing? Why live and die by the side of those who would abuse you, and treat you poorly? To the Gentries, we are friends and allies, worthy of such an act. Under their rule, our lands grew, and we have provided more Queens of Ghant than any other House in Ghant. They may have been incompetent at times, unworthy of the throne perhaps, but they have always treated our house well, and with respect. What they say is true, my son, that if you are going to risk everything, only risk it for those who are worthy of your sacrifice.” Elen put a hand on her son’s shoulder and rubbed it gently. “And know that family always comes first. For without that, what are we, but levies in the van?”

Sara

The tango wound down at last, Sara and Consul Tamburo having been both absorbed in the music. He guided her well enough, and was skillful in his steps. He wasn’t too forward, but enough to demonstrate some degree of interest, which she appreciated. She had done the same, twirling around him and at times a hand on the back of his neck, or on his chest. At the end he gave her a few twirls before he leaned her back. She searched his eyes then before looking away. Then once the music stopped, he lifted her back up. "Well, now that was a dance, though you must admit you were holding back a little. Now, do you intend to spoil me all night with your company, or should I find a good vintage to crawl in?" His grin was impish, and she smirked in turn.

“…Are the two mutually exclusive?” she asked, laughing as she gathered herself and stepped away before the waltz began. “The way I saw it, we could always crawl into some good vintage together if you are so inclined, whilst enjoying the pleasure of my company. Two birds with one stone, as they say.” Not wanting to leave it left unsaid, she nodded. “I was holding back a little, yes, but only for the sake of appearances. As the Emperor found out when he clutched that girl’s behind, there is always someone watching, fathers especially.”

Indeed, Tamburo noticed the same. "His Majesty was dancing with the Travers girl, looks like they're off to...wait..." he said, watching Kevin Travers emerge from his table. "I think...we have an interception. What a shame," he said wryly.

“You see? Father’s always watching,” Sara laughed. “And you’ve met mine in Dakar…not the sort of man that appreciates men playing fast and loose with his little girl…at least where he can see.”

Tamburo apparently knew who the girl was. "Claire Travers, daughter of Kevin Travers; awfully raunchy for one of those oh-so-pure daughters of the God-Emperor, don't you think? Her father's the CEO of Haywood, which makes him one of the Imperium's two oil oligarchs. Word is that under his watch organized labor has a lower life expectancy than a hemophiliac mayfly, courtesy of the Inquisition."

“I am hardly surprised,” Sara laughed. “Girls that grow up in such a rigidly religious society that places control on their sexuality are like to grow up into deviants. After all, the more you tell them that something is bad, the more they want to do it. That, and her father has wealth, power and influence. Not hard to image that this gives her a certain license. Poor organized laborers never stood a chance, for the…Impisition isn’t to be unexpected.” Impish Inquisition…Impisition…that’s clever.

Together they went to retrieve drinks, when they spotted Ambassador Prince Amenmar. Tamburo greeted him first. "Ambassador, hello, I'm surprised I didn't bump into you two earlier. Good evening, Barsina," he said to the monkey and to the man.

Sara was not unaware of the Ambassador Prince’s affection for the Sophia…a quality that had served him, New Edom and Ghant well. Had it not been for him, much would have been different between the two nations. There would be no alliance, no base, there wouldn’t have been Ghantish forces in New Edom during the latest Civil War, no Michael and Jocasta…no joint regency (as Sophia’s brother Martin came up with that idea), and for all she knew, the ETC would reign in New Edom with the Prophet in power. Funny to think, how all of that began with a man’s gentle affection for a lady.

Tamburo continued to speak to Amenmar. "I see you've met one of our 'esteemed' representatives from the private sector. And I have to wonder what His Imperial Majesty planned on getting up to with his latest dance partner. Oh, forgive me, Prince Amenmar Urgolin, may I present Lady Sara Moro of Dakmoor, unless the two of you are already acquainted."

“Greetings, my Prince,” Sara curtsied to Amenmar, knowing him from her time spent at the Palace with Sophia. While Alazne Dain was away in New Edom awaiting her brother’s return from combat, Sara took Alazne’s place at the Palace as principal lady-in-waiting. Sara lacked the sheer beauty and radiance of Alazne Dain, but was not far behind in either. “We are acquainted compliments of my service of the Empress at the Palace.” Sara gestured towards the Empress, who even now was making the rounds once more. “Will you be asking Her Imperial Majesty to dance, my Prince? The waltz or the subsequent quickstep, perhaps? Or, will you be saving that dance for last?” A coy smile crept across her lips. On either account, she doubted the Empress would object.

Nathan

The Emperor of Ghant observed as Aoife and Uhtred bowed before him, the latter bowing more deeply than the former. It was Aoife who spoke first, not long after he kissed her hand. "You speak well, your Majesty," she said, her tone light and a grin on her face. "I am glad to hear that Ghant, and its gallant Emperor, hold me in such high regard. In truth my exploits are not so grand. Fujikawa was a middling swordsman at best."

Nathan smiled widely, his teeth white, but not exceptionally so, and straight, not either. “I am glad that you are glad to hear it, since it is true. I saw the fight with Fujikawa myself, and was awestruck by your performance. Yes, a performance, for all the world is a stage, and we are but mere performers, who put on a show for the world to see. And what a show it was, and you the performer, putting on the performance of a lifetime.”

Uhtred had a faint smile fixed upon his face that Nathan observed curiously. He snorted, and when Nathan addressed him, he nodded. "The brewery is doing quite well, your Majesty, thank you for asking. In fact, we have heard word that our principal client, the Green Dragon Tavern, are in talks to franchise several hundred locations across Ardoki, but I am considering whether or not to supply this venture - Ardoki is a confusing place, and such a large increase in output might jeopardize the quality of the draught."

“Ah, yes…that it may well indeed. Forgive me for my lack of knowledge of Ardoki, but I have heard that it is a…peculiar place.” What Nathan had heard about it was that it was a socialist ideological shithole hostile towards nations that espoused conservative, religious or monarchist values. The Ghantish government had avoided dealings with it, if only because such nations Ghant abhorred. In any case, Uthred turned to gesture back towards the entryway of the antechamber, allowing him to turn his right foot and angle his body towards Aoife. Ah…he’s territorial, Nathan grinned, knowing that Uhtred must have had some affection for Aoife that made him feel threatened.

Uhtred continued. "Speaking of which, I believe there is a case of Black Dragon ale in amongst the wedding gifts we have brought for the happy couple. I am sure that they would be willing to spare you and your lovely wife Sophia bottle or two..."

“That would be most appreciated,” Nathan said gingerly, “but unfortunately, the Empress is with child and as such must forgo ale. Which means more for us.” Extending his hand to Aoife, he asked gently, “the quickstep is up next, my lady. I was hoping that you would do me the honor of a dance…I have wanted one for so long, and thus far, only in my dreams have I had the pleasure.” One thing I have going for me that Uhtred doesn’t, is I am an Emperor, and he is not. More often than not, that was all Nathan needed to get what he wanted…

[Deadora]

Faelix

There was a rush and a roar in his ears, and Faelix smiled as his ribs were hammered. It was just a moment, but the reciprocal kiss was as an open door and beckoning wave. Her high colour seemed something rarely earned, and the Second Prince felt his elation rise unchecked, but for the presence of that peacocking patriarch across the dance floor.

Nevermind him.

The dance was ended, but they still touched. Two once more, but raw. "Everything you see, you have found first." Faelix said softly. He showed her his neck for two long heartbeats, but then raised his eyes to hers. "I have no plans but for the acceptance of my ka. It seems that is you, Princess. Perhaps you can show me around this magnificent palace? To do so in your company would be a delight."

[New Elizabetta]

Teresa

Lord Derby laughs as Margaery walks off, and turns back to Teresa.
"Ah your daughter would fit in well with our sister state Elizabetta. Run completely by women, who are supremely confident in all their abilities and who do not stand on ceremony if there is something they want. Sadly men were at the bottom of the pile and we had two civil wars, to gain our freedom, unpleasant but necessary. However I think at a genetic level we still love our land and our beloved Queen Tudor."
He sips champagne.
"As to my wife I am the lucky one, she is a wonderful woman and I am most fortunate that she agreed to marry me."
He bows to Teresa.
"Until later then."

Lady derby circulates the ballroom listen to a snippet of conversation here, a comment there. Never directly interfering but ensuring that she saw faces and heard conversations that sounded amusing. She decided she would do a full circuit before interrupting conversations to introduce herself, unless of course some-one introduced themselves first.

[Military Democracy of Birtonia]

Lawrence Bontus Flavica, Imperial Ambassador
The Imperial Palace, Ghant

---

As the sun disappeared over the horizon and gave way to the sacred night of summer, a handful of vehicles sped through the countryside of Ghant, making their way through the winding roads from the airport towards the Imperial Palace. The lights of which could already be seen off in the distance, in stark contrast to the pale blue night, illuminated by a crescent moon now high in the sky. Within one of the high end cars was the ambassador Flavica, being sent as part of a diplomatic mission to the country of Ghant, to attend their Midsummer Ball, since the armored doors were sealed tight the only thing one could hear is the wind whipping against the hull and the wheels spinning on the cold asphalt. Lawrence reached across the seat and pushed a singular silver button, not unlike many others about the luxury vehicle, and slow, gentle instrumental music began to fill the passenger compartment. In his had he held a small glass with two large square rocks, chilled to his liking, and a fine Birtonian sour mash whiskey. The spirits passed between his lips, cold and strong, making its way down his throat ensuring that he had just enough mental lubrication to have wonderful conversation tonight, it was rumored that Ghant women were extremely attractive, and he would need as much of an advantage as he could get.

After the vehicles arrived, Lawrence's guards, five members of the Optimus Equites, the elite forces of the Imperium Militare, exited the lead and rear vehicles before forming a semi-circle around the center most one. The heavy armored door swung open smoothly and the ambassador downed the rest of his drink before exiting the vehicle. Once he was outside of his protective bubble of armor, he took a deep breath and produced a rather large cigar from his coat pocket. Holding it in his lips, he held up a zippo style lighter in his opposite hand and flicked the flint. It sparked and the flame reflected off the military style uniform he wore, gold buttons and various accouterments. The men moved forwards towards the palace to be greeted by a representative.

[Brytene]

Uhtred

The Eorl nodded and wished them a pleasant dance, before turning to move away into the crowd. Admittedly, he had designs on Aoife, but he was under no illusions that she could be 'tamed' or that she would cling to him. At least, that was what he told himself, but in his gut he hoped that she'd paid heed to his barb about Nathan's wife. He had seen pictures of her, and she was truly a rare beauty - he wondered whether Nathan's purported
infidelity was due to his own lack of self-control, or else some flaw with Sophia of Dakmoor's personality.

He found himself at a loose end, however, amongst a crowd of almost total strangers. He glanced around and noticed a shock of red hair atop what could only be described as a voluptuous figure, generously displayed in a steamy gown that showed tantalising glimpses of leg and décolletage. He did not know it, but this was Margaery Hyle, daughter of Lady Teresa who had first greeted them, a 19-year old beauty whose very footsteps managed to convey the affected world-weariness of the teenager, despite her ingrained poise. She was almost a decade younger than he, but he was healthy and in shape and, whilst he was not beautiful in the Hollywood sense, he knew he possessed rugged good looks and a certain noble charm. She was moving away from an older-looking man he didn't recognise, and he could practically hear the distaste radiating from her.

He slipped through the crowd to cross her path, deciding upon a slightly less direct approach. Young ladies such as this would be used to batting aside overt advances without so much as breaking step. Instead, he angling his course so that the two of them would cross paths 'accidentally', stopping just in time to graciously let her go first, before speaking. His accent was mellifluous, English but with the sing-song lilt of a Saxon. As he spoke he let his eyes widen just a little in faux surprise before smiling broadly. Truth be told, he didn't have to put much effort in to his moment of surprise - she was truly a warming sight.

"My lady, would you care to dance?" he said, extending one hand, palm-upwards. His skin was dark for a Saxon, a rich tanned peach, and his lithe arm was covered in fine hair beneath the rings and silver.

Aoife

Aoife inclined her head slightly. To dance with an Emperor was another pinch of spice to be added to the tales told of her across the globe, and besides, she had never done it before - she was certain it would be entertaining, and she hadn't gotten all dressed up for nothing. Besides, the quiet-spoken, courtly young Nathan was an intriguing change from the boisterous and rowdy Brytons she was used to.

Following him out onto the dancefloor, she took a moment to glance around the room. It was crowded, and she could not see into the furthest depths of the room, but she did briefly catch a glimpse of Prince William of Skaran, one of the nobility of Valaran, a charming young man she'd visited what felt like years ago now, though in reality it had only been a few months. They had traded gifts, had a friendly trial of arms which he'd narrowly won, and had strengthened the trade ties between their two nations.

Nathan guided her onto the dancefloor, his footsteps sure - he was obviously accustomed to this kind of thing. Aoife herself was steady on her feet, agile and accustomed to dancing, but these formal ballroom dances were not her strong point. She was a quick learner and knew enough to keep up, however, and Nathan was an excellent leader. As the music struck up and they began to move, she took the opportunity to scrutinise him from up close.

"So, your Majesty, you've heard of me. I confess, I am surprised you hold me in such high regard - to put it delicately, I do not believe that Ghant and Brytene would make natural allies, and I am not sure your policies and mine could be described as complimentary." she said, her voice hushed, barely more than a murmur, the conversation intimate despite the crowded ballroom.

[Ghant]

Cassandra

The Midwinter Princess, in some ways, was glad that the tango was over. It could be such an…overwhelming experience, especially when so many eyes were upon her. All the same the danced ended, and they were still together, if only out of sheer habit from the dance. "Everything you see, you have found first," Faelix said softly. He showed her his neck briefly, and Cassnadra knew well enough what such a display meant among the Deadorans. Then Faelix raised his eyes to hers. "I have no plans but for the acceptance of my ka. It seems that is you, Princess. Perhaps you can show me around this magnificent palace? To do so in your company would be a delight."

“…Forgive me if I am unfamiliar with ka. But if I am that, then it must be good,” she laughed, taking his hand and departing the floor. “You want to receive a…private tour, eh?” I really shouldn’t, she thought. Cassandra was one of the seven ball planners and her presence was necessitated to a large degree as a result. Yet, at the same time, when did Cassandra ever operate by any rules besides her own? Never.

“Truth be told, my Prince, I could use a break from the floor. All those dances, culminating in the tango, have left me feeling quite exasperated. I think a change of scenery to something more…intimate, might be a good change of pace. Perhaps you would like to see the gallery? It is not far.” Cassandra didn’t doubt that Faelix wanted to fuck her, but she wasn’t going to let him so easily, or so soon. He had to be worth it, and prove that. Mayhaps he shall…

Teresa

Lord Derby turned to Teresa after laughing, presumably at Margaery’s shortness. "Ah your daughter would fit in well with our sister state Elizabetta. Run completely by women, who are supremely confident in all their abilities and who do not stand on ceremony if there is something they want. Sadly men were at the bottom of the pile and we had two civil wars, to gain our freedom, unpleasant but necessary. However I think at a genetic level we still love our land and our beloved Queen Tudor."

“…Not as well as you might think,” Teresa countered. “My daughter has never demonstrated qualities of leadership or statecraft. She was always an average student…at best, and spent her time socializing. As a little girl she would play dolls and dress up, and then after that, dress up and debutantes. The only thing she is supremely confident in is her own vanity.” Teresa did have to suppress a laugh at the genetic comment. The only things we are programmed to do on a genetic level are survive and reproduce. An ironic thought, considering that many northerlings existed to consummate those two things at the expense of others.

Lord Derby continued, after sipping some champagne. "As to my wife, I am the lucky one, she is a wonderful woman and I am most fortunate that she agreed to marry me."

“It would appear so. Clearly, she would have been a fool not to. Might I digress, my husband, Lord Hyla, is a good man and true, and offered little hesitation at the prospect. I was young and naïve at the time, but I have never regretted my decision in the slightest.” No doubt her husband was in the ballroom at that very moment, dancing with some noblelady and watching his own daughters with eagle eyes.

With that, Lord Derby bowed. "Until later then." Teresa curtsied once more, and smiled. “Until next time.” It didn’t take long before new arrivals were announced. “His Excellency, Lawrence Bontus Flavica, Imperial Ambassador to Ghant, of Birtonia.” Well…this should be interesting.

Ambassador Flavica entered the antechamber with five guards, formed in a semi-circle around their charge. The man wore a military uniform, which didn’t surprise her considering the military nature of Birtonia. All the same, she curtsied to them, a gentle expression on her face. “Your Excellency, and companions, welcome to the Palace here in Ghish, and to the Midsummer Ball. An honor to host your presence here.” With the most recent arrivals having already dispersed into the ballroom, she could focus on receiving the newcomers properly. That, and my daughter not behaving like a curmudgeon…

Margaery

…This is stupid. It wasn’t fair! First she lost her friend Cici…God only knew where she disappeared off to. Then, Arietta got tangled up with her stupid Allamunnic boyfriend, Vitus of Staalmark. Sure, he was hot, and a Crown Prince to boot, but he was manipulative. Margaery tried to let her know, but Arietta, dense as she was, would never listen. You’re just jelly, Arietta would shout. That I have a good and decent man and all you have are whoremongers. Indeed, Vitus and Arietta’s circle didn’t seem to mesh well, and he was probably aware that Margaery was the originator of the so called Gretch jokes about his younger sister Gretchen. I got 99 problems but a Gretch ain’t one, she once told Arietta.

The ensuing argument between the two closely aged, similar personality redheaded cousins was fierce, as was to be expected of their Ahenobarban ancestry. It culminated with Arietta informing Margaery that while Arietta and others were in Fineberg, New Edom, their friend Ella Maedros slept with Malachi Unwerth, before he went off to whatever that godforsaken shithole of a country that was in Ceti. “Fuck you,” Margaery remembered shouting, “for lying to me about Malachi just to hurt my feelings. That’s low.”

Of course, the two could never stay mad at each other for long. A few blunts in rotation later, and they were back to basics. Yet now, with Cici gone and Arietta preoccupied, Margaery was left to let it all soak in. The second daughter of a second daughter, she thought to herself with a frown. Not even Malachi Unwerth would stay interested in me long enough. What if Arietta wasn’t lying…what if she was telling the truth, that Ella went and fucked her man? There will be hell to pay. Her ancestor, Emperor Ahenobarbus I of the Cornellian Empire, became Emperor for murdering a man who insulted him. I wonder what I will be become if I follow in his footsteps?

She tried to return to the banquet hall, only to find that her friends and family were gone, off to do something else, and the once stacked bowl of ice cream and weed brownies was gone. It then suddenly dawned on her that she was still rather high…and slightly intoxicated, and alone. Her father was probably watching from somewhere…but most likely watching her younger sisters, and not her specifically. Nobody ever watches me.

The high, the buzz, the brooding over Malachi and her own mother’s judgmental prudishness made Margaery mope around. She still had her beauty and charms to save her wounded pride. She could command a presence on the floor, for although she was short, she was lithe and curvy in her dark red silk gown that complimented her red hair, and brought out the blue of her eyes. Ironically, as she considered her appearance, a man appeared. He crossed her path, almost accidentally stepping into her.

"My lady, would you care to dance?" the man asked in some foreign accented English, before extending a hand, palm-upwards. Margaery noticed that he was dressed strangely with some sort of a runic tunic, and his dark skinned arm was covered in fine hair beneath rings and silver. Her first guess was that he was some sort of Nord. Bleh. Yet, she could hardly refuse him.

“…Usually a gentleman introduces himself before he asks a lady to dance, so that she won’t have to dance with a stranger,” Margaery replied, dryly, as if to feign disinterest. “Either you didn’t know that because you are not from around here, or you did, and just don’t play by the rules. Dare I ask, which are you?” she curtsied in any event, and did him the courtesy of an introduction. “Lady Margaery Hyla, at your service, daughter of Hodei Hyla, Lord Paramount of Gotorleku, and Lady Teresa Zuria. You may have seen my cousin, the Emperor of Ghant. Our mothers are sisters,” she grinned, saying that to gage his reaction. She took his hand, to let him know that she was at least interested in a dance. Got nothing better to do…

Nathan

Aoife inclined her head slightly, as she followed the Emperor out to the floor for the waltz, more than halfway done by that point. Once there, he quite eagerly took her hand in his, and then with his other, placed it upon the small of her back, holding her close to him. Then they began to dance, much to his delight…and to the chagrin of Uhtred, that he didn’t doubt.

Once they had begun, Aoife spoke. "So, your Majesty, you've heard of me. I confess, I am surprised you hold me in such high regard - to put it delicately, I do not believe that Ghant and Brytene would make natural allies, and I am not sure your policies and mine could be described as complimentary." Aoife’s voice was hushed, hardly anything more than a murmur.

“You shouldn’t be so surprised,” Nathan responded in an intimate tone, his eyes not deviating from hers. “And you shouldn’t be so sure. You are a champion of justice, as am I. You try to do the right thing, even when the circumstances seem quite wrong. You are but a candle in the darkness of the world today. I would like to consider myself the same, and it is for that reason that I hold you in such high regard, my lady. If Brytene is anything like you…strong and proud, valiant in the face of adversity, and willing to forsake political austerity in order to accomplish what is right and just, then I think our nations should understand each other quite well.”

Of course, she had her reservations, he figured. Ghant’s steadfast membership in SACTO had to have been one such. “Rest assured, my lady, that Ghant’s membership in SACTO is merely a consequence…a result of a great tragedy that had befallen my extended family, back in 2008. Rojo Martes, if you have heard of it…an event most foul. Had it not been for this particular incident, Ghant wouldn’t be in SACTO. And even then, I see to it that Ghant’s policies, like mine, are fair, and just. Ghant, like Brytene, has a bicameral parliamentary system, with an upper house of nobility and a lower house of smallfolk, both have common law, are pro-rehabilitation and no federal law regarding capital punishment.” Although people are often put to death in various parts of the country, should those lords deem that punishment fitting to the crime. Nathan figured it was best not to say that. “There is also free, state provided universal healthcare, education both primary and secondary, and guaranteed freedom of religion, while officially secular. You see? Perhaps not as different as you thought after all.”

He didn’t want to bore her with ramblings about politics, so he contented himself with that, and decided to see what she had to say about all that, as they continued to dance.

[Military Democracy of Birtonia]

Lawrence Bontus Flavica, Imperial Ambassador
The Imperial Palace, Ghant

---

Lawrence made his way through the rather extravagant foyer, several guests milling about within. Passing through another set of masterfully crafted wooden double doors, an announcer looked over and shouted his presence to the rest of the guests in the main chamber. Each of his Rangers moved into the room before him, constantly scanning the area for potential threats and suspicious activity. Soon after his entry was announced a beautifully dressed women turned to greet him, she curtsied and welcomed him to the ball. In response he nodded slightly, handing his hat and overcoat to the valet that approached.

"Likewise," said the ambassador as he reached out to shake her hand ever so gingerly, "It is indeed a pleasure to be here. And you are Miss...?" he finished, trailing off.

[The IASM]

THE IMPERIAL BALLROOM
Inperiala Palace
Ghish
Ghant

THE MARSHAL

---

Ghant was an enchanting place for him, the old Marshal of Yaosai found it a comforting realm to be in. Seeing a nobility respected and strong kept the his old dreams of allowing his family to survive on far into the future. He brought his son, Molxue here much to his displeasure for he was a man of work and he always was displeased with the frivolities of balls. He recalled when he was like that and it had paid off for him. He stayed loyal against the wolfish Cangbai who wanted to regain their lost independence against the so called tyrannical Lazins. So he was given in reward of his power the true rights over Yaosai as he now was named the first Wusheng; his house Woerjin had finally sought the revenge for the Cangbai’s cruelty to them. Their rights slowly stripped away by the overlords which ruled them, their heirs made eunuchs although Qiaozhi would be the first to admit his own kin haven’t been without sin. He still recalled the barrage he had launched against the traitors in 1984. He gave them a chance to surrender before they begun but as he watched the ancient mountain Lieguokeng set alight with N-stoff he knew their fate was sealed. The palace was nothing more than a burnout husk by the time they had finished, littered with the corpses of those who fought to the end. He decided to send his men to gather them all of the corpses. Yet he found few still living as he personally toured the broken halls, he found a child trapped underneath its mother who was clearly dead - with little of her remaining. It took a while but they later learn’t that the child was Xhou Cangbai and his mother - Machiko Cangbai the heiress to the Clan. So as he and Xhou stood over the corpses being cremated out of respect and their ashes scattered across the field of battle, the took the young child as his ward. Now he rules their lands and commands a new rising corporation - Cangbai.

He found comfort in the ball, despite its odd traditions - he was a still a man keen for humanity and its gifts. He wanted to preserve the creations of man in his own vault, it’s where many creations, designs, blueprints and artifacts from empires across the globe. He had ravaged Akai to ensure their protection and their survival despite the displeasure of the late Ditor Jieke who did the same for less selfish reasons. He had heard of an old sword being located her, one given centuries ago by Zhou II Lazin and he would rather shamefully admit it was a part of bringing him here.

Qiaozhi was now a old man, nearly eighty years since his first birth and yet he had lost nothing less than his body to his age. But his mind remained intact. He had a head of thick grey hair, violet eyes and skin which revealed a few layers of what hid underneath. Frail yet sharp, tis the way I like it.

“Father,” a low voice spoke with a brassy baritone to it. It was Molxue, his son was a reminder of himself a long time ago. A titan among men, he stood at seven feet tall and was muscled like no other man he knew. He had his father's features too, purple eyes and his old jet black hair. The Commissar-General always strived to be greater than his father, to succeed and bring greatness to the name Woerjin in any way he could. He knew nothing of temperance or respect, only him.
“What is it son,” Qiaozhi responded in his calm manner as he gripped his own bone cain with its grip styled similar to a dajian. It was a large thing and to be honest the Marshal didn’t know if it still contained a sword or not but he thought it was better not to know.

“We’ve been doing nothing productive for little more than an hour here, we have done nothing that we could not do back at home...”

“Ahh, that is where you are wrong my son,” Qiaozhi interrupted with a slight bemusement. “I notice you have been reintroduced with your, erm how should I put it, companion Machiko and furthermore have been able to meet Ditor Hulang personally.”

Molxue paused for a second, realising how he sounded then in a slightly shameful manner: “I did notice someone else was recently free - Prince Albert Gentry.” Molxue pointed his hand over to the man who had just finished speaking to the emperor himself. “I haven’t heard particularly positive things of the man although he feel he would be an interesting ally to have for our family as I doubt that Nathan would tolerate us.”

Good to see that when he thinks, he truly does think now. Qiaozhi nodded in approval: “We shall do this then,” he remarked as they slowly crossed the hall. I wonder how the Iron Eagle will be in his form. It took a few minutes but they eventually came to approach the prince. Qiaozhi introduced himself in his respectful voice although he did speak Latin with a slight accent: “Greetings, I am Four-star Marshal Qiaozhi Qiaopian Liepian Woerjin, Wusheng of Yaosai and this is my son Commissar-marshal Molxue Qiaoxue Qiaozhi Woerjin of the Geluxu. We are from the Akai party and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Although I doubt few could say the same about us.

[New Elizabetta]

The Marshal

Looking around the room Lady Derbys eyes were caught by a noble looking old man, standing next to a tall muscular young man with dark hair. as she walked towards them they both walked over towards a third man.
Giving a small shrug she strode towards the three of them.
"Gentlemen, I apologise for any interruption that may cause offence. However you look some of the most interesting people in this hall. I am Lady Sarah Derby of New Elizabetta. So what shall we discuss?"

Lord Derby strolled back over to the bar and refills his brandy glass, and sits quietly looking around the ballroom, wondering who to talk to next....