Quest Extra-Marital Affairs (SQ)

[Vice]

46th of Summer, 514

Twelfth Bell

As the procession prepared in unison for the ceremony to come, Dervain Sitai sent for a carriage alone. Slaves were a common escort, but noticably absent as Sitai made his ascent towards Radacke plantation. Guards raised their weapons as they saw a threat approach, but as soon as the Head of Household for the Sitai Dynasty raised his hand. Immediately, hushed whispers coursed in the man's vicinity. Two guards at the entrance immediately lowered their weapons as two more stationed at the fountain left their post to trail behind Dervain as he made his ascent through Whiplash.

A sharp gaze was directed towards the two escorts as Dervain waved them off, a haughty tone spilling from his lips, almost contrary to the deep nature of his voice,

"Unless you wish to be removed from your stations, gentlemen, I advise you return to your posts. I am acutely aware of the layout of Whiplash household. Remove yourselves from my presence."

The traditional, self-assured, confrontational nature of the Dynasties was embodied in the Sitai male, a stare moving to each man in turn as they inevitably returned to their posts. Dervain Sitai made his way onward, sifting through the lavish rooms of Whiplash house. He slid past slaves, who stopped in his wake and shuffled off, the Sitai following directions indicated earlier. when he at last arrived at his destination, the last door opened on its own, pulled backwards by Mica Radacke, the two offering each other a brief handshake before the latter invited the former into the room.

The door closed behind them, the heavy slam audible in the next rooms as plans began to uphold.

~The details of conversation are lost behind closed doors, though tidbits remain, fragments of understanding beheld for the world to know~

Sitai begins the discussion after brief introduction, a glass of rum poured ironically as subject matter entails, "The Morealis are inevitably going to retaliate... This alliance places them in the middle of the conflict between my House and the Askara. The other Dynasties have begun talk. We could possibly muster the Draer or Ackina to our cause. The Askara have proven themselves to be incompetent. We owe our history in Kenash to their ancestors, but Banjemin is nothing more than a fool."

Mica Radacke's lips were pursed against the glass of rum, the only one that he'd likely have, given that the Morealis Dynasty had failed to offer the gift of liquor for the wedding. The Draer, on the other hand, seemed very eager to provide their cut, a fact that Mica would later be grateful for.

"I have noticed, Dervain. For the past three days, gifts have come pouring in for the wedding. A small gesture that the Askara could not even muster the resources to disguise their intentions. The Morealis failed to provide their precious elixir for the festivities, and have been noticeably absent. Despite the generosity of the Draer Dynasty's offering, I am more inclined to ally myself with the Ackina. And you should be, as well. The Kelvic slave trade would be a most valuable asset to add to the trades of two slaver families as is. Our plantations mean nothing in this conflict. We are on even ground in terms of wealth. We must, Dervain, move forward with expansion."

The Sitai nodded as he sipped from his glass of rum, accepting the Radacke's understanding of the situation at face value, though disagreement was present in his gaze.

Mica says this because his plantation is smaller than his rivals'. He has a point, but the base trade of a Dynasty is also an important factor...

The Sitai kept his thoughts to himself as the discussions progressed, a glass clinking as an eventual agreement was reached.

Third Bell

Within the annals of Whiplash household, women were just finishing their own preparations for the wedding, silver and blue bridesmaid's gowns adorning flawless Dynastic bodies in the ever-present pursuit to impress the world about them. Giggles flowed from lush lips as the procession of bridesmaids made their way to assist the bride in her preparations. Select members of allied Dynasties were welcomed into the room, as well, conversations spurred into being as a relaxed atmosphere set itself in the Sitai bride's dressing room.

~~~

The groom's entourage was much smaller, a select group of Radacke men engaged in conversation, light laughter and joking cast about in an effort to assuage the youngest Radacke heir's, a boy by the name of Shawn's doubts about the entire situation.

"But, I don't love her. I hardly know the bitch."

Chuckles escaped the Radacke men, though Waite would step forward to grasp his shoulder,

"You're going to be a key piece of the puzzle, Shawn. We'll be with the Sitai because of you. We're up for very interesting times, I'd say. Unless someone else has a different opinion."

Fourth Bell

The preparations for the wedding were complete. The inside of Whiplash Household was finely decorated with a deep lavish display. Tables made of rich, polished chestnut wood, draped in tablecloths crafted from fine cotton, trimmed with silk, set in the colours of summer, shades of blue alternated with each table.

Mica Radacke and Dervain Sitai stood at the head of the procession, ready to apply their signatures to the documents that would seal the marriage between two of their heirs. A solemn exchange of words was had, the couple casting uncertain gazes towards their fathers before they were wed.

"A farce, I say..."

A whisper was audible to some, coming from a Konrath Akalak.

"Lies upon lies. Is this how this goes on?"

A Freeborn woman looked upon the betrothed with spite, though when the ceremony was complete, and the party began, all would be forgotten. Bottles of ale were served by waiting slaves, passed to the crowd. Slaves moved to each table, a menu placed upon each table with a number of options for the invitees to partake in.

Meals

1. Grilled Marinated Lamb with Mache and Mint
2. Filet Mignon with Balsamic Glaze
3. Lime Shrimp with Cilantro.

Desserts

1. Pumpkin Cheesecake (single slice)
2. Frosted Chocolate Cake (single slice)
3. Draer Truffles (six count)

Beverage

1. Chilled Ale
2. Ravokian Whiskey
3. Hot Grey Tea
4. Chilled Citrus Juice
5. Fresh Water with Cucumber
6. Assorted Cocktails (inquire with servant)

Moderator's NotePlease note where your PC would be at all three junctures, but focus more on the beginning of the wedding reception. There was a great deal of background that needed to be laid out in my post, but please, move forward. Have fun! ^.^

[Timothy Mered]

46th Summer 514AV

12th bell.


Earthy red brick towered over trimmed and mowed greenery, interspersed with dashing, colorful bouquets. He’d never seen so many different plants and flowers, carefully lined up in pottery, ready for a drunk to piss in at the end of the festivities. Tim doubted that any of the guests would more than glance at the collection of hues and somehow, that fate saddened him a great deal.

“Here.” A Mahoney box was pressed to his chest. "Follow me," the slave girl said. Leaving the comfortable cool of the mansion, Tim squinted his eyes as soon as he stepped out into the open, the sun hurt his eyes and he struggled to keep up with the girl. Already his skin warmed as he doubled his pace and he worried he might've been better of in his old clothes if he was supposed to be running around all day. Sweat stains, that much he knew, weren't suited for a wedding. He almost pitied the Kenashians, who had a habit of overdressing. Their powdered noses would melt within a bell's time and their perfumes would mingle with their sweat. He smirked at the prospect.

“Over here,” the girl he’d been following said. Aside from her mark, Tim wouldn’t have guessed her to be a slave. She stood tall, brown hair tied into a knot, cheeks blossoming with life and clothed according to the blue-silver theme. Two males, twice his age and with skin as dark as the chestnut table they were carrying carefully placed the altar of gossip on the grass plane, left of the fountain.

Aside from the small horde of younger servants, most slaves he spotted seemed to have been picked on appeal. There wasn’t a sullen face or limping cripple among them. A jealous twang shot through his veins. Why were the plantation slaves treated so much better? A life out in the open and near that lovely house was infinitely better than one amidst wax and sawdust.

“Are you listening?” The girl, not many years older, but many years more experienced, paced over to him and opened the chest, revealing the silver cutlery within. More slaves and servants came to the table, each layering it with another cloth, plate, board, glass or bottle whose purpose Tim failed to guess. A bowl and a spoon was all you ever needed, but apparently the knee-boots preferred complicating things. “It goes fork, two-tooth, cake fork, desert fork on the left and knife, small-tooth knife, dessert knife on the right. Sugar tongs go in the center, cream spoons, long ice spoons and regulars go up top. Got it?”

Tim glanced at the pile of silverware in his hands. There were knives, forks and spoons, no this-tooths or that-tooths. Like a woodpecker, the girl fished out the right cutlery and laid out an example. “There, you do the rest, and on the other tables as well. If you’re out of knives and forks, return the box and fetch a new one.”

He nodded and was left to his devices. Just when he started to get the hang of it, a carriage stopped near the fountain. A guest? So soon? He caught but a glimpse of the tall, tanned man, but enough of a glimpse to know that he wasn’t just any guest.

3rd Bell.

Content with being left alone, Tim lounged about near the kitchen. Every odd chime one of the passing slaves would glance at him, but none stepped forth to command him about. The scents that came from inside made his mouth water. Sizzling lamb, rich with juice and fat. Mint, heavy molten chocolate, kicking citrus juices and many more scents he couldn’t quite place.

The buzz inside was began to pick up. Occasionally, giggles or heavy laughs sounded in the corridors at which point he expected some red-nosed Dynasty bastard to spot him and order more ale to ease the nerves. It never happened, yet he couldn’t stop himself from flattening his attire, readjusting his neckerchief, tying and re-tying his bluchers, or turning his cap in his hands over and over again. Matilla had urged him not to wear it in or outside, but he cared little for fashion and no one had called him out on it yet.

4th Bell.

The insult sent a shudder through the crowd, and Tim seized his opportunity to scowl at the guests. Puffed up lot they were, good-looking, yes, but painfully so. And then there was the conversing, the odd chit-chat he’d overheard had left him confused. There wasn’t much point to their talk and he tried not to listen too much, in fear of getting a headache. Still, he couldn’t help but notice a pattern.

Usually, one couple, a faraway uncle and aunt of the betrothed, would praise the other faraway nephew on some business while their female counterparts would drown each other in compliments regarding their dresses and perfumes. More often still, there would be vile undercurrent to the conversation, and more than once, Tim feared that one guest might refresh the other with wine to the face.

Soon enough the peace was restored and Tim assumed his role, placing menus on tables and weaving through the crowd with a tray decked with glasses and a fine bottle of wine.

NoteI've agreed with Jed Radacke that Tim will act like an extra pair of hands during the wedding. He is still Jed's responsibility but will fulfill the duties of a slave servant during the wedding.

[Jed Radacke]

12th Bell

For now, all Jed had to do was kill time. House slaves had offered to dress him, but Jed had declined. It was a practice, however common, that made Jed uncomfortable. He'd rather dress himself than have another dictate his fashion, it just seemed odd. He had spent too many years away from the plantation.

Jed glanced in the mirror as he buttoned his vest, a small landscape brooch rested on its pocket instead of a kerchief. He ruffled a hand through his hair and turned away, ready to find some sort of entertainment. Letting the door close behind him, Jed strode down the hall, bustling with slaves preparing for the wedding and guests taking tours of the estate. But as Jed dove deeper into the estate, intent of finding his cousin Waite before he needed to appear at the entourage, the amount of people thinned. Heading opposite of Jed, the well-known Dervain Sitai sauntered down the hall. A curt nod was exchanged between the two, and Jed wondered briefly what his purpose was. But he didn't dare question the man, instead he continued towards where he was to meet up with his cousins.

3rd Bell

Jed lounged in the room with his cousin Shawn, short bouts of laughter and light teasing occupied the men's time as they waited for the ceremony to begin. Everyone had already heard Shawn's doubts time and time before, but the boy continued to complain. Almost no one was on board with the arrangement, but it would happen anyway. "But, I don't love her. I hardly know the bitch."

A smirk slid across Jed's face, listening only half heartedly to Shawn's complaints. He was relieved that he wasn't chosen for the arranged marriage, even though it was very unlikely given his age. To no one's surprise, Waite spoke up. His words were less to reassure the boy of his marriage, but more to convince him of it. As if there was another option for Shawn. "You're going to be a key piece of the puzzle, Shawn. We'll be with the Sitai because of you. We're up for very interesting times, I'd say. Unless someone else has a different opinion." And of course, no one did.

4th Bell

The transformation of the Radacke plantation almost amazed Jed. Almost. He wasn't all too surprised how much his family went through to put on the proper show. Even the slaves were elegant looking, weaving between the blue and silver tables serving drinks and attending to guests. Standing among his family, Jed was given a front row view to the signing of the marriage document. His sisters stood beside him and his mother was missing, per usual, but he had made an appearance so he had little to worry about. Within the families, it was well known that the marriage was not one for love. A marriage like his parent's were rare with the politics of the Dynasties. Jed could see his cousin wasn't happy with the arrangement, Shawn had not neglected to let all of the Radacke's know of his disagreement with the marriage. Jed ran a hand through his hair, the heat was starting to get to him.

Blue eyes turned towards the crowd which had picked up in whispered gossip, something to be expected of an arranged marriage. Not many believed in this sort of alliance, Jed himself wasn't particularly fond of it either. Jed let the dynasty gossip roll of his back. He could care less about the politics, an attitude his mother was still trying to change long after his childhood years. It was the freeborns who bothered him. Their comments were inching dangerously close to insulting his heritage, something Jed never took kindly to. "Lies upon lies. Is this how this goes on?" The woman's voice slipped in at the last moment. The document had been signed and the music began. Jed clenched his fist once before crossing his arms over his chest, his arm hair resting on the weird texture of his brocade vest. Beside him, his sister Risa rested a hand on his shoulder before accepting a glass from a slave.

"There is nothing you can do about gossip, brother. Now, its a party, let it be a party. Try not to start anything." He could hear the grin in her words as she disappeared into the crowd. He glanced after her, she was more excited than most of his family, a product of not being allowed out much. Jed mentally shrugged and uncrossed his arms. Mingling didn't sound like a bad idea a the moment. Alcohol and women were his goals tonight.

PC/NPC Talking -- Common -- Thoughts

[Verena Lorak]

Twelfth Bell

"Truth be told, your taste is simply . . . tasteless. How can you wear this?" To prove her point, Calisha pulled out one of Verena's dress from the wardrobe and casted a disgusted look. "They are all so simple and light and, well, not very fashionable."

"What is your point in insulting my choice of clothing?" Verena asked lazily as she headed for the door. It did nothing but waste their time. After all, Calisha had already forced Verena into one of her dresses and spent two entire bells tugging and yanking at her hair. It had not exactly improved the young woman's mood regarding the wedding.

Despite that, it was not hard to admit that Calisha had done a great job of preparing her - or of choosing the slaves to do so. The dress her cousin had loaned her was finer than finer than most of Verena's own dress. It was quite a charming piece of art in the color of the morning sky. Admittedly, it was much simpler than what most of the Dynasty women were wearing, but she was content. Besides, she hated heavy skirts. Her hair was also braided intricately with a blue ribbon.

Just in time, a servant knocked at their door. Verena straightened. That could only mean that her escort had arrived. Calisha looked up and finally stopped rummaging through her clothes. "Ah, your charming prince arrives."

Without a word, Verena exited through the doors and walked down the stairs calmly. She had read books where it was described how women would have their hearts in their throats and sweaty hands and wiry nerves as they were about to meet their partner. How they would glide down the stairs to meet with the love of their life and smile brilliantly. All of which sounded somewhat ridiculous to her. Verena felt absolutely nothing but the slightest twinge of annoyance as she finally saw Cassius Paille, the man who was to be her husband.

Cassius greeted her with a quick embrace and dropped a light kiss on the top of her head. "You don't have to look so miserable, you know," he whispered as he escorted her toward the carriage. She stumbled on her dress and would've fallen if Cas hadn't caught her elbow. "I see you are still affected by that eye of yours. Hasn't it been almost three seasons?"

She blinked reflexively. Ever since that night when she met that Rujaro, Haskel, her eyes had been blurring. From the pounding in the back of her eyes, she guessed it was because of her auristics. Any effort she had to use that magic again only resulted in massive headaches and more blurred vision. It had been absolutely annoying at first, squinting at things she could usually see. At least now, she had gotten used to it. She did not even remember exactly what perfect vision felt like.

"I don't want to go," Verena replied almost sullenly as she settled on the velvet seat. She ran her hand on the soft fabric of her skirt. Already, she was feeling the excessive heat of summer under the layers of clothing. "They don't want us there, either."

He shrugged and fidgeted with his tie for a moment as the door closed. Cas had cleaned up well, looking dashing though uncomfortable in his waistcoat. "No one wants us anywhere, but they still have to act like they do. So do we." And she could tell that their wardrobe had been planned, seeing that Cas's tie matched her dress.

Deciding that there was no need to reply his statement, Verena reached for the ring on her smallest finger and fidgeted. She didn't bother to hide that she was watching him. The man sitting in front of her would soon become her husband, one way or another. The idea didn't disgust her and she could see the logic behind the decision between the two families, but it still made her uncomfortable. It was not Cassius that bothered her, since she had gotten used to him. It was just that how she was completely powerless in making her own decision.

Immediately, Verena pushed the thought away. It was a pointless way of thinking. So instead, she forced herself to stare outside and stop thinking.

Third Bell

After three bells, the rocking motion of the carriage was almost unnoticeable. She had let her mind wander to a seaside cave miles from her. Of the gentle breeze whipping at her face and the warm sand tickling the soles of her feet. But ultimately, the isolation it offered.

"If you had the choice, will you marry me?" Cas asked abruptly. His eyes slowly settled on her and reflexively, Verena looked away. The Paille wasn't bothered though - he was used to her peculiar reactions.

"No," she said blatantly. Verena had enjoyed their easy silence over the course of their ride, even when she noticed that her partner was deep in thought. With no effort at all, she had begun to recognize Cas's different expressions. But she had no real interest in figuring it out - until now. "Will you?"

He shrugged and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I don't know. You're beautiful and you're one of the few women who tolerated me. I don't see a reason not to." As an afterthought, he added, "You should stop frowning. It's a wedding. Everyone is supposed to be happy."

"You know I never liked parties. No matter what kind." Though this particular party did upset her than the others. Verena wouldn't say it out loud to anyone else, but this marriage reminded her to much of the marriage she was to have with Cassius. No one had outright pressured her to pick a date yet, but she could feel her family's expectation hovering over her. Cas never mentioned it, but she knew he was getting the same treatment. Verena could tell from overhearing whispers whenever she visited Stormsgrace.

Not her problem. Verena had clearly shown and declared her opinion about this . . . partnership. And unless someone forced her, she wasn't taking it anywhere. Thankfully, neither was Cassius.

Fourth Bell

They arrived at Whiplash slightly late, but so was everyone else. Verena could see the lavishly decorated building and all the people streaming. She tensed and felt her heartbeat rising. Her chest tightened and Verena felt herself gritting her teeth. Even the sight of such a crowd made her nervous.

Cas picked it up quickly and reached out for her hands, something he did whenever she was restless. His warmth was familiar and almost comforting. "We have done this hundreds of times. You will be alright. I won't be far, you know that."

"I know." She squeezed his hand once. Though Verena couldn't imagine marrying Cas, she also couldn't imagine not knowing him. "We should go down."

Cassius grinned in reply, but didn't let her hand go. As the door swung open, he helped her down. His arm rested around her waist and he pulled her closer. "Let us get this over with."

Already, she picked out random conversations from the crowd. Most of them seem unimpressed by the wedding, annoyed even. They talked about how all this was just an elaborate setup, a fanciful way of declaring allegiance between Dynasties. So far, the Loraks hadn't been involved too deeply and Verena hoped it stayed that way.

A deep breath calmed her nerves and she let him lead her through the massive doors. A good looking, well-dressed servant greeted them almost immediately. They were directed to where everyone was headed. He started talking about seating arrangements, but Verena barely listened. Her mind was already starting to block the noises out.

She remembered what Zorane told her and placed a tight smile on her face. Between all these people, it would look sincere enough. Everyone was wearing a forced smile, clearly uncomfortable with standing under the summer heat. Verena couldn't blame. She had begun sweating under her tight dress.

"Verena," Cas's voice slowly sounded.

The Lorak blinked once. "What?"

"I asked you if you would like to sit already."

She shook her head. It was not even a question. Verena didn't think she could stand sitting with other Dynasty members and hearing them talk about the wedding or bragging about their dresses or how pretty this woman looked. No, she certainly preferred wandering around for a while. At least until the food is served. And surprisingly, Cas looked relieved at her choice.

At least she was not the only one who was uncomfortable with all this.

[Adelaide Sitai]

Twelfth Bell

"Maya. Please stop moving so that Ramona can do your hair." Adelaide said, for the fourth time as the young bride turned excitedly to exchange a comment with a friend, "She gets a braid just about right only for you to pull away just as she's putting in the pins."

Not for the first time, Adelaide was struck just by how girlish her younger cousin still was, so young to be taking such a step.

"When can I see it? My hair?"

"At this rate, we'll have to postpone the wedding. For Cheva's sake, stop fidgeting!"

"You sound just like mother." the young woman giggled, "Like a proper adult and everything. I'm not sure that I like it. It's strange."

Adelaide raised her eyebrows, trying not to show how much she was affronted by this, nevertheless harmless, comment, "Not as strange as a bride arriving late to her wedding."

"I thought that that was my prerogative?"

"Oh, blast it." Adelaide crossed the room, possibly more aggressively than she intended, to fetch a few more pins from a satin-covered box which had been placed on the chimneypiece. Turning back to look at her cousin, however, and seeing her face settled into a huge grin and bright eyes wide, Adelaide could not help but smile. The youthful zest and indolent charm of a Dynasty adolescent was disarming.

"Do I really sound like my Aunt?"

"Like Mother? Oh yes - you've got the tone just about right 'Maya. Please stop moving so that Ramona can do your hair.' It reminds me of when she..."

"Who is this 'she' you talk of with such impudence?"

The young bride jumped up as her mother - a tall, dark-haired woman with swaying hips - entered the room, and her long hair fell back into a cascade of dark curls, coinciding with Ramona's sigh of irritation, something which the patriarch's wife noted with disdain. The slave immediately hung her head and dropped to the floor to pick up the fallen pins.

"Her hair hasn't even been done yet!"

"I'm sorry Aunt." Adelaide murmured, "It's been rather hectic in here."

The mother of the bride surveyed the room with a critical eye, noting the fallen pins, the dress still hanging over the end of the bed, the quantity of ill-prepared bridesmaids and flower girls and, finally, her daughter's dishevelment. "I could do with a drink. Adelaide..."

Adelaide shook her head, indicating that there was nothing to offer. This did not seem to please her Aunt who, after once again sweeping the room with her eyes, left. Adelaide went to close the door behind her and turned back to her cousin. Nothing needed to be said and Maya returned meekly to her stool. If she had been at all perturbed by her mother's sudden entrance, it did not last long for, less than five minutes later, the young woman was one again conversing happily with the rest of the bridal party.

Third Bell

Finally, the bridal party was just about ready. Adelaide had, with better grace than anybody might imagine, agreed to wear the dress set out for her when trying it on for the first time. Quite to her surprise, it had suited her well. The light silver silk, almost translucently fine, hung perfectly to her delicate curves, managing to simultaneously conceal and highlight her body. Now, she wore it with aristocratic nonchalance, her hair pulled back behind her shoulders and intertwined in waterfall braids with silver ribbons. If not beautiful, the effect was, at the very least, intriguing. The bride was finally dressed, in spite of last minute adjustments, and at the sight of her, Adelaide breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, they might not know each other and Cheva only knew what the future would hold in store for the young couple but, one thing Adelaide could say with certainty was that the groom would not be able to complain of being saddled with an ugly wife. Maya, dressed in swathes of white gauze, floating dream-like about her frame, had never looked prettier, more mature or more innocent, and the effect was breath-taking.

"I don't think I can breathe. You pulled the corset too tight."

"I did nothing of the sort."

The magic was broken as soon as she opened her mouth, but Adelaide felt that she could congratulate Ramona, and the dozens of seamstresses who had made the gown, on a job well done. The bridal party was cooing and making all the right noises causing a gentle blush of pleasure to overcome the bride's face

"Grandmother. Doesn't she look beautiful?"

In the corner of the room, two wizened hands and a mischievous, tanned face that must have once been very attractive before being marked by age, loomed out of a dark cloud of purple smoke. The leather-skinned dowager of the Sitai family observed her granddaughter with a critical eye, still puffing on her cigar with a solid gold holder.

"The most important thing I've learnt about wedding dresses is that most grooms can't wait to rip them off."

The bride giggled nervously but, for once, a shred of doubt had cast a shadow over her eyes.

"Take my advice Maya. The first night is important. Make it count, leave him begging for more, and he's yours forever. But get it wrong and he'll resent you for the next ten years."

Adelaide raised her eyebrows because it seemed her grandmother's words had reawakened Maya's nerves and her giggles suddenly seemed a lot less genuine.

"Grandmother. You shouldn't exaggerate." reproached Adelaide with a light laugh, wondering why there wasn't any alcohol available to steady everyone's nerves "Being melodramatic is only going to worry Maya. And she's got nothing to be worried about."

The dowager shrugged. "I'm sure. I'm sure." She looked like she was about to say something then thought better of it. Just as she seemed like she might sink back into the cloud of smoke that seemed to accompany her everywhere, she added, "Of course. If all goes well, you bear him four or five little Radackes, men like that, then - fifteen years down the line - you can have your pick of lovers."

Adelaide sighed as the old woman faded into the smoke, only her gnarly hands visible, then went over to her younger cousin who was being fussed over by numerous relatives. Deciding not to say anything, she made a move to escape into the corridor for a moment alone before the wedding started but found her exit blocked by her aunt, donned in a blue dress and what seemed to be half the Sitai jewels. She moved towards her daughter, placing a tiara on her dark curls then turned back to face the party.

"Today is a very happy day."

Fourth Bell

On the whole, and bearing in mind the huge hoo-ha it had caused, the actual ceremony was over very quickly. As Adelaide took her place, between the bride's younger sister and another cousin, she found herself barely able to concentrate on what was actually going on. The crowd seemed hostile, something which Adelaide was more than a little surprised by. After all, marriages of convenience between the dynasties were nothing new. Could it be the age of the young couple? Or what such a marriage would mean for the rest of the dynasties? Adelaide could not help but repeat her Aunt's last words to her daughter before she became a married woman, "Today is a very happy day." This exaggeration seemed cruel and Adelaide could not help but feel a strong surge of empathy for the woman, no - the girl, who was now being sold in marriage to a man, a boy, she hardly knew. And he was a boy - had he even started growing facial hair yet?

"A farce, I say..."

Adelaide noted a Konrath Akalak with displeasure. She caught his eye then looked away. No. If there was to be a schism between the dynasties, she would not get involved. She would ignore it. With the threat of the Rujaro, they had to stand united.

And then, to her great relief, it was over and the party could begin. In spite of all, of her own misgivings and the snide comments she heard every now and then, Adelaide was full of hope for the future and determined to enjoy herself. She noted how beautifully everything had been decorated and the house was bedecked with flowers and banners. On reflection, there were far worse things than this union and, if Maya ever regretted or rued the day it had ever happen, she would have the consolation that she would one day become mistress of the Radacke estate and if the house was indeed 'cemented with the blood of slaves' it was nonetheless, the most architecturally pleasing and successfully posed Dynasty Home in Kenash.

Deftly motioning to a slave, she murmured, "Whiskey. And, for the love of all that is good - no ice."

[Edmund Morealis]

46th of Summer, 514AV The Blacksugar Plantation Twelfth Bell There was absolutely no reason for Edmund to be as tentative as he was. It was not as if he were sitting down for a chat with his father, or catching up the years while sitting under the stars. It was a simple purchase of some rum for the wedding, just a gallon as an offering from the Morealis, so there really should have been no reason for the young Edmund to be so tense. Yet he was not just purchasing the rum from some nameless unknown shopkeeper. This was his father he was purchasing from, his father who, since nearly his birth, he had talked to on fewer occasions than years he had been alive. "Do not worry, brother. It will be fine," said a relaxed Amarantha reassuringly. Edmund looked down at his sister, sitting beside him in the carriage as it bumped along the road to the distillery, and smiled as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You are right, of course," he replied, letting her lean on his own shoulder as her eyes slowly shut. "It is just my nerves, I suppose. For the wedding as well as for seeing father again. Neither of us know him very well, so I shouldn't really be bothered at all by this." He closed his own eyes and sighed. "Nonetheless, I cannot help but feel unnerved at the prospect of talking to him. I almost wish it were possible for him to just leave the purchase outside like he usually does with the product." Without getting up from her comfortable position, Amarantha lifted a finger and tapped her brother on the forehead. "You worry too much. One day we will sit down with father and talk, but today we are busy. So do not concern yourself." "Right again, as usual," Edmund said smilingly, grasping her hand in his. He looked out the side of the carriage at the passing scenery, the vast fields of Blacksugar plantation in all it abundant growth and rampant flora. "I suspect my overactive mind is the cause of all my concerns. There are times when I think that you would have been better off as the older sibling, and I your younger brother. How much simpler that would be for the both of us." "Perhaps, but you are my older brother and the only brother I will ever know. That is something I'm happy with." At this, Edmund had to smile greatly and hug his sister closer. However, despite Amarantha's best attempts, Edmund still couldn't get his mind off of his father. In reality, he knew the exchange would be brief and probably lacking in any emotional attachment, but even so Edmund's mind could not settle. He had an idea of how things would go with Matthias, the brief encounter and purchase just like any other customer. What bothered him most was that he wasn't just another customer. He was his son. ~~~ The dead lands around the distillery were always unsettling, for all the times Edmund had been there. He'd often accompany those whose job was to pick up the shipments of rum left outside, and every time he entered the radius of sickly fields around the building he could always feel a shiver run down his spine. There was no good reason for any field, especially a Morealis field, to look like this. Since nothing stood here except for the distillery, it was the only logical explanation that the old building - or whatever was inside - was the source of the effect. But Edmund trusted his father well enough to believe that he would never let anything damage the family or its name if he could help it, and that set his mind at ease. If only a little. As the carriage came to a stop a good few meters from the distillery, the jolt roused Amarantha from her peaceful slumber. She lifted herself off of Edmund's shoulder, rubbing her eyes gently before looking out the side of the carriage. "We're here," she observed simply. Without answering, Edmund stepped out of the carriage and approached the distillery, Amarantha watching from her seat. The young Morealis man walked up to the door of the building and, after a brief moment of hesitation, knocked. His thoughts were roiling in his head as he waited, standing under the intense heat of the summer Kenashern sun, and his usual patience seemed to slowly evaporate as he knocked again. Nervousness getting the better of him, he began to play with his hands behind his back as he faced the entryway, expecting the door to open at any moment, a moment that wandered farther and farther away as a chime passed. Perhaps he is out, Edmund mused just before the door opened. There Matthias stood, graying hair and work clothes all. He looked nothing of the sort that a dynast should, but then again he had kept the company of no dynast for many many years. His scraggly beard and disheveled hair made him appear wild, yet his features remained utterly calm, perhaps even detached. For a moment, Edmund was unsure of what to say. "Here for some rum?" The question was so absolutely mundane that it caught Edmund completely off guard. He just stood there for almost a chime, not saying anything, then recovered his senses enough to respond. He couldn't think to do anything except go along with his purchase, the rest of his mind nearly freezing. "One gallon of rum, for the wedding today." "Ah, a wedding. Whose?" Matthias asked as he disappeared back into the distillery, talking through the open door. The sound of clinking bottles was heard from inside. "Shawn Radacke and Maya Sitai," Edmund answered. "There have been plans for the last few weeks, though neither have even met. It is a political arrangement, rather than an emotional one. I believe that a document is being signed by the two families, rather than marks received." He leaned forward slightly, trying to peer into the distillery. Just as he did, however, Matthias returned and blocked his view, holding a large gallon bottle of Morealis rum. "That is a shame," he said, handing over the bottle. "Yet it is the sad reality of dynasty life. We are blessed with riches and fortune, and in exchange we are sometimes asked to pay the price of personal freedoms. It is a small price to pay, however, for the luck we are given." Edmund blinked as he took the bottle in his hands, bracing his arms a little to account for the weight of the liquid. For someone who lived as a hermit away from the rest of Kenashern society, dynasty or no, Matthias spoke surprisingly well. And what he said as well coincided greatly with Edmund's own opinions. How much was this man like him, his father whom he hardly knew? "Yes, well, thank you very much for the rum," Edmund said, shifting his arms awkwardly in an attempt to hold the bottle in one. Eventually he managed, and with his other hand reached into his pocket and took out his ten prepared gold-rimmed mizas to hand over. Matthias took them simply, and it looked as if that would be all. Just as Edmund turned however, Matthias spoke. "Come visit, son," he said. "Find me sometime, and we will sit out here and talk." Edmund froze. Before he could reply however, the door to the distillery shut behind him, and Matthias vanished inside. His father, disappearing once again. With remarkable ease, Edmund managed to shake off the feeling that had come over him and returned to the carriage, where the slave carriage driver was waiting patiently. Edmund nodded, and as soon as he entered the cabin he heard the cracking of the whip and the carriage began to turn around. He set the bottle on the seat beside him, on the opposite side of his sister. "Well?" Amarantha asked curiously. "You two seemed to be getting along well, somewhat. Did he say anything?" For a while, Edmund didn't answer, and Amarantha put her hand on his shoulder, and the two just sat in the bouncing carriage as it rumbled along the worn road. "Not really." The Whiplash Plantation Third Bell The road between the Radacke and Morealis plantation houses was well-worn with travel in both directions over the many years, so the rockiness of the carriage worsened slightly as the driver moved from the well-maintained roads of the interior of Blacksugar fields onto the road bridging over into Whiplash. The motion was discomforting for either Edmund or Amarantha, however, who were used to the turbulence of travel at this point. That did not make it any easier for Amarantha to sleep, though. "Come now, we're nearly there," Edmund teased, knowing full well that the manor was nearly another bell away. "Surely you can forgo sleep for a little while?" Amarantha sighed in response. "Traveling is such a pain. Why must all the plantations be so large, that we must travel for bells on end to visit any one place?" "If you so wish, I'm sure Dimi or Remy would be happy to buy you a room at the Dream. Transit from there to your performance hall isn't nearly as much of a hassle as it is from Blacksugar, after all." "The same could be said of you, dear brother," Amarantha replied, jokingly turning up her nose and facing away from him even while holding onto his arm. "Are you sure we can't afford a room at the Dream for yourself? The Orchid is right across the road." Smiling, Edmund could help but pat his sister's shoulder and chuckle. "You are correct, it is only across the way from the Fantasia Zulaca. Nevertheless, there is something about transit down the river that I find invigorating in the mornings and relaxing in the evenings. I would miss it if I were to purchase a room at the Dream. Besides, it is enjoyable to travel with you on the occasions we go together. I would miss that most of all." With that conciliatory response, Amarantha seemed to drop her act and rest her head on Edmund's shoulder as before. Chuckling again, he looked out the window of the carriage to his opposite side at the passing swampland and plantation. The moving scenery did not help his mind settle however, and eventually his eyes fell down onto the decorated gallon of rum beside him. He had considered arriving early to the wedding in the hopes of reconciling with the Radacke and Sitai, but decided against it for the very obvious reason that they would be preoccupied. With the wedding so near, it would be more of a bother than a pleasant surprise to force his gift on them beforehand. Edmund's brow furrowed. What exactly was Dimitri thinking, refusing to send a wedding gift? More than that, refusing to attend at all? Edmund thought he had understood his cousin, thought that they had shared the desire to lessen the political squabbles of the dynasties. After the wedding, they would have to talk. "You worry too much," Amarantha repeated from her position on his shoulder, as if she could read his thoughts. "Do not worry about Dimitri, I am certain that he will appreciate your gesture to the Sitai and Radacke. He is most likely busy or otherwise occupied, or perhaps he is acting rashly in the moment. In any event, he is an intelligent man. He will come around." Pulled out of his perturbed thoughts, Edmund's lips lifting slightly in a gentle smile as he placed his hand on his sister's head, careful not to disturb her styled hair. "Of course, you are right." Whiplash Manor Fourth Bell For all the preparation and fuss and grumbling of the dynasties, the actual ceremony itself was rather curt. The Sitai and the Radacke both lined up on either side of the podium, one on the side of the bride and the other behind the groom, and the heads of the dynasties signed the document as the married couple joined in front of a large and unhappy audience. Of course, it was destined to be a short ceremony. There weren't even any attempts to conceal the political nature behind the union, and the lack of effort apparently struck many of the other dynasts as insulting. The signing of the document was the only thing of import that occurred, and with the lack of Cheva's appearance and bestowal of gnosis on the married couple it was all too plain that the bride and groom were strangers. In fact, among everyone that was present, the only people that looked even remotely content were the two masters of the dynasties involved. Edmund, for what it was worth, took no offense to the overt political nature of the bond. He still found it sad, however. "A farce, I say..." commented one guest. "Is this how this goes on?" asked another. The rumblings of disapproval were everywhere, some more blatantly audible than others, and all directed at the two families standing before them all. Whilst speaking out against the host while actively attending their event and eating their food was more than a little rude, Edmund could not fault those who were unhappy with the proceedings. "The world is filled with unhappiness," Amarantha said next to him. "Dynast or Freeborn or slave, we are all plagued with the miseries of Mizahar. The only difference is what form we receive them in, and whether they are brought about by ourselves or by others." She looked to Edmund, who took her hand, and together they watched the unhappiness unfold. ~~~ Later, during the time food was being prepared and the various guests asked to take their seats, Edmund took the chance to search for the heads of Sitai and Radacke. Amarantha had wandered off to take her seat at the behest of some house slaves, while Edmund led one of the Morealis slaves who bore the rum he had brought. It was not particularly difficult to find Dervain Sitai and Mica Radacke, them being the most important dynasts to be seated. Theirs was a large and fanciful table, well-decorated and well-attended. Food would not likely be served to them until everyone else was seated and prepared, but they would undoubtedly be the first to eat. That was how dynasty politics worked, after all. After many years of playing the game among the families, Edmund was beginning to catch on. Sadly. He knew better than to interrupt the two heads, of course, and so he stood a little distance away from the table so that he could wait until beckoned. Close enough he stood that he would be noticed, far enough so as to remain respectful. Now Edmund would see whether he was as diplomatic as he thought. OOC : Deducted 10gm for the rum. Permission to play Matthias and Amarantha Morealis given by Vice.

[Adi Skyglow]

12th Bell
Zulaca Customizations
OOCAdi's outfit is in my scrap if you're curious. -30 GM, 8 SM, 5 CM for dress, sandals and sash.

It had been fifteen days since Adi had placed an order with the owner and, from what Adi could tell, only employee of Zulaca Customizations, a place she'd been told was the only place to go if one wanted to look stunning for special events. The price for the dress-twenty-nine gold mizas and seven silver-had burned a hole in her savings she'd been reluctant to pay, though hopefully it would be well worth it.

Dressed in simple white clothing that was a remnant of time spent in Avanthal, Adi entered the clothier's shop and was greeted with nothing but the sight of the familiar bell on the counter, which she rung. She'd barely settled in to wait when Zoroaster appeared, smiling when he saw her. The man turned behind him to one of the mannequins, which contained a finished dress, and took it off said mannequin. During her first meeting with Zoroaster Zulaca, he'd been absolutely thorough, and had talked her into buying a short little dress as opposed to the longer one she'd originally wanted. Upon seeing this finished dress, the Skyglow woman realized she was glad. The layered look worked well, and the silver beads that decorated the bottom of each layer of fabric added a shiny factor Adi couldn't help but admire. This dress, her dress, reminded her very much of ice crystals-was this an accident or very much on purpose?

Sighing, Adi turned her attention back to Zoroaster, who placed the dress on the counter in between them. She ran a hand over the fabric, then picked up the finished garment. She'd paid for the dress back when she'd originally ordered it, so there was no money to be exchanged at the moment. Her next task would be to find shoes.

After a very mundane encounter at Blade Plaza where Adi purchased a pair of silver strappy heels and then a matching sash, she'd retreated back to her room to change into the dress and shoes she'd bought with a significant hole in her savings. Most of the money had gone towards the dress.

3rd Bell
Adi's Room

I've never spent that much money on clothing in my life.

When she'd finished changing, Adi realized she needed to do her hair, too-it was currently braided as usual, but was much too tangled to just drop it and go. So she spent the better part of half a bell combing through her hair until it was perfectly smooth. She left her hair loose, though it was parted on the side, and realized almost immediately that she needed to leave right now or she'd be late. Arriving fashionably late as a Dynasty member was one thing, but Adi was not a member of the Lorak family, the all-Vantha Dynasty who had lived in Kenash their whole lives.

Looking around her room frantically for something she could use to take her dagger with her-after all, Adi didn't exactly trust the uppity residents of Kenash-her eyes hit on the sash she'd bought earlier. She tied the sash around her waist and tucked her dagger into it. This way, it wouldn't be noticed unless she wanted it to be.

Satisfied, Adi left her room and set off for Whiplash house.

4th Bell
Whiplash Manor

I can't believe I decided to go to this wedding, Adi thought to herself. She was seated relatively far away from the bride and groom, unsurprising given her low social status. Weddings were supposed to be celebrations of love between the couple, not of union between two families. That was why she'd decided to attend-because it would be nice to see a couple madly in love take their relationship to the next level. A marriage of convenience was not her idea of a good time.

Sighing, Adi sat and watched the proceedings. At least there would be food.

[Vice]

The wedding was a shallow show of a thing, hardly even able to be considered as such, for vows were replaced by documents, and the lack of Cheva's presence was more than noticeable, but however false of a front the wedding was, the party that erupted at the end of the short, solemn ceremony was nothing of the sort. Music began to play, a string quartet playing a melodic tune, but the drawing focus was no longer on the celebration of 'love' and 'union', primarily the second. As much as the wedding was a union between the Dynasties, it would become a showing of the wealth that flared with the union. Two Dynasties funded the wedding, the Radackes deigning it fit to post it in their own building.

This was by no means an accident. It was meant to set other Dynasties on edge. Micah Radacke knew this, and as several slaves rolled in the wedding cake upon a wheeled plank of wood, all would see the master craftsmanship that was displayed for them to know. Set upon a wheeled mechanism and supported by wood, two slaves supported the transport, but the cake itself was suspended and encased in glass upon a ceramic surface. Easily reaching the height of a rather tall man and with a matching width, one would come to see that the lavender petals were not so, but a farce given the shape, icing made by hand and painted upon the cake by the baker set masterfully for all to see. One looking from far away would even believe the illusion.

Micah Radacke and Dervain Sitai stood from their seats, the latter clinking upon a wine glass with a silver fork and calling out to the masses,

"Friends, Freeborn, guests... I would like to thank you for coming today, and I would ask of you to enjoy. Partake. This is a time of celebration, for the union of heirs from different Dynasties spells the perpetuation of peace and prosperity in Kenash. I can personally promise you that we will do our utmost to lead Kenash in a fair manner, and I, as your Magistrate, will ensure this. I ask of you to continue to trust in my judgement and in the coming days, fortify yourselves, your households, and your judgement.

But, not this day."

A chuckle escaped his lips as he continued,

"Please, partake in our drink and food,"

The Magistrate motioned to the cake and to the menu upon his portion of the table. He then motioned to a small gathering of slaves at the bar in the northwestern corner of the wedding hall, a collection of whiskey and ales present for all to partake in. A smile graced the Sitai's lips as he continued on,

"And most of all, celebrate with us. Today is a momentous day."

The smirk cast upon his features was hidden behind his hair as he looked downwards, an intent gaze cast upon the menu as well-dressed slaves began taking more orders. Adelaide Sitai's order would be fulfilled mere moments after she had taken it, a smile cast upon the features of a Sitai house slave as she bowed to one of the ladies of the house,

"It is a pleasure to see that you could make it, Lady Adelaide. Is there anything else that you wish to order?"

Each of the Dynasty members would find themselves confronted with a similar question. Jed Radacke in particular was confronted by a young man, a bow bending his spine before he asked,

"Would you try to try the whiskey, Master Jed? Or the ale? There are also an assortment of 'off-menu' selections available for one of your station, m'lord. A Radacke, after all, deserves the best."

Those seated close to the Radacke heir would perhaps hear the slave's words, an elderly man of the Radacke Dynasty stamping his foot upon the ground once,

"I'd like similar treatment, slave. Jed's just a kid, after all. Get me a mixed cocktail, and make it quick. Didn't close down my business for the day to stay sober, Gods damned it."

The slave nodded meekly before returning his gaze to Jed, intent on impressing the younger Radacke, as well.

Verena and Edmund would find themselves confronted with unfamiliar slaves, neither receiving a bow as the other two had, though the slaves' tones would be similar, and a similar question would be posed.

Adi Skyglow would receive none of the same treatment, but a Freeborn flashed the woman a smirk when she looked in his direction,

"Can I get you a drink? You're probably just as out of place as I am here. It's not often we get the chance to drink Dynasty booze. I'll take whatever chance I can get. Am I right?"

He winked at her before offering her his hand,

"Name's Jole. May I learn your name?"

The Freeborn was wearing gloves upon both hands, thick, but pristine leather strapped to his palms. He was well-dressed, a silver silk, long-sleeved button up shirt adorning his shoulders, navy blue slacks upon his waist. He was notably missing a jacket of any kind, though several could lay claim to the same offense. Kenashian summers were grueling. Nearby him was another gentlemen, though both seemed not to notice the other's presence, the latter drinking the day away, a glass of whiskey in hand as he relayed a joke to a nearby Dynasty member.

All was calm in the Radacke household, though an energetic air and the crisp scent of liquor mingled with perfume and cigar smoke.

The party had begun in earnest, and the string quartet was replaced by a pianist playing a quiet melody. A bard could be seen recounting a story nearby the table where Micah Radacke and Dervain Sitai were seated, though both looked as if they were preparing to leave.

[Adelaide Sitai]

Adelaide indicated that she would have the Filet mignon and the pumpkin cheesecake then smiled as the slave served the meal. The whisky brought to her was thankfully generously served and rather lovely, warming her stomach like something hot was hugging her from the inside. She looked to the menu and was not surprised to see that it was from Ravok: indeed, yes, the citizens of that city seemed the sort of people who would have perfected the art of making whisky. Not only that, but to have it imported was a mark of wealth and culture, something which both the Sitai and the Radacke family would want to show off, let everyone know they had. They didn't even have to refer to it, since everybody intrinsically knew.

The dainty cut of tenderloin was a little overcooked for Adelaide's taste - she tended towards pink, still bloody - but was otherwise excellent, tender with a beautiful texture that felt soft and pleasing in her mouth. It was accompanied by balsamic vinegar, enough to heighten the taste, without overpowering the delicate aroma of the filet.

"Why is he always so handsome?" Adelaide looked up as she heard her half sister's mournful question and sighed, turning to see who Flavia was looking at while already knowing.

Lowering her voice, she hissed, "He's our Uncle. Stop it now." Really, every time Flavia referred to her supposed "great love" for the man, it gave her a headache, "You'll find plenty of people to dance with soon who won't be blood relatives." and today wasn't a day for headaches. It was a day for a party, whether or not one believed it to be a worthwhile celebration, and she intended to enjoy it.

"I'm going to see if Maya needs anything since I've neglected her a bit. And, for goodness sake, stop staring at Marshal like a lovelorn puppy. It's pathetic, wrong and he'll be sure to notice." Adelaide couldn't prevent herself from sounding harsh over something that irritated her so intensely.

As the piano started, the speeches all over, Adelaide made her way over to her younger cousin. Somehow, the young bridal couple had managed to be completely upstaged by their Fathers. Everything was arranged as though it were these two, rather than their progeny, who had got married, sitting at the head of the table and lording over the proceedings, slapping each other on the back and congratulating themselves on a job well done. Maya and Shawn faded into the background further as the huge wedding cake (a little ostentatious to Adelaide's taste, but she supposed it was supposed to be yet another mark of power and prestige) wove its way towards them. Maya was still giggling every now and then but uncertainly, a confused look casting a shadow over her young face, a dark curl escaped from the complex hairstyle which had taken all morning to create. The boy, or rather groom, next to her seemed bored and already guests were getting up to dance, to chat, to socialise. The sycophancy had started, as it always invariably did, and Adelaide knew that in a chime or two, she'd be forced to get involved, all charm, sharp wit and good humour.

"How are you?" she kneeled down next to the teenager and looked up at her, before adding in a whisper so that only she could hear, "He's not bad looking. You could have done a lot worse of it."

She could also have done a lot better, Adelaide had decided, but it seemed best not to tell her this. Maya was a creature of whim and optimism and if she realised how miserable her fiancé... no, her husband looked about the proceedings, then she'd be very hurt. Maybe she had already cottoned on, but was continuing with her usual merry laughter in the hope of maintaining some semblance of dignity. Not for the first time, Adelaide was hit by a sudden feeling of anger at her Uncle for putting someone as sensitive as Maya through such a marriage, or rather such a mockery of a marriage.

"Have you had a drink? The whisky is excellent."

Maya shook her head and smiled, saying that she'd make a mental note to try some. Sensing that there would not be much conversation to be had there, Adelaide stood up, gently squeezing Maya's arm as a mark of support, and moved towards where people were standing in groups. Confident, smiling, she flitted from one group to another making small talk.

"How do you do? Yes, how do you do? What a lovely dress. What a beautiful silk. Doesn't the bride look lovely? We've been very lucky with the weather. I'd further say that we have been rather lucky with the temperature. Whatever is so-and-so doing here? Sorry, I did not catch your name." etc.

Trying not to yawn as she engaged in general niceties, politeness, she talked about this and that, mostly nothing of any value. Then, excusing herself, she called a slave over.

"Can I help you my Lady? Is there anything I can get you."

"A man would be quite nice." The slave looked at her with eyes wide and Adelaide took too long to realise that the slave thought she seriously wanted him to go and find her a dance partner, "I jest of course. No - your best sparkling wine will do me just fine."

She smiled as the slave ran off and turned back around, crossing her arms and observing the guests in her usual unabashed way, her head cocked to the side. Adelaide felt she really had to stop doing that, the staring, but couldn't bring herself to. After all, everything around her was so interesting.

[Verena Lorak]

Cas smiled bitterly. "Seems like this is what our wedding will be like." He squeezed her hand gently. "Do you think it'll be soon?"

She shrugged, but her arm tightened around his. "No, they're still quite preoccupied with the Rujaros. Besides, unlike these Dynasties, ours are not in any haste to form alliances." At least, that's what she could tell so far.

"Not yet," he replied tersely. "They'll feel threatened by these alliances soon enough."

Slaves and servants had started to mingle in the crowd, approaching guests and taking orders. It wasn't long until a young man with the Radacke brand on his face to approach the pair. "Excuse me, master, may I take your order?" He started rattling off the choices.

Verena ordered for the grilled lamb and the frosted chocolate cake, while Cas chose the fillet mignon and truffles. "Along with the citrus juice and ale," he added.

"No ale," Verena said sternly. She knew that Cas should be kept away from the alcohol. "The party just started. Once you start, you never stop."

The Paille sighed, but changed his order. Verena couldn't help feeling relieved. Cas was different when drunk, a whole lot different. She knew that before they were betrothed, his drinking was uncontrollable. Caedmon had told her how his brother would disappear only to appear with some woman the next morning.

"Send it to our table," Cas said as he dismissed the slave.

"Verena! Cassius!" a suddenly voice called out. The pair turned to see Yvenna Lorak heading towards them, Zorane trailing not too far behind with a young woman Verena didn't recognize. As always, Yvenna glided gracefully across the floor. Her mother's movements somehow always looked delicate, yet powerful - a trait she noticed in most experienced fighters. Until now, Verena couldn't understand how Yvenna can easily switch between a pompous Dynasty woman and a demanding knight.

"Lady Yvenna, you look stunning." Cas greeted with a warm smile. Slowly, he let his arm rest around Verena's waist and pulled her closer. Yvenna always demanded the two to look . . . romantic. He turned to her fair-haired brother and nodded. "Zorane."

"And you look dashing as always! I simply don't understand why my dear daughter isn't swooning right now."

"Swooning is usually caused low blood flow to the brain," she stated. "I don't see why I should swoon at the sight of him."

Cas laughed lightly despite the warning look Yvenna gave her daughter. This was why she could actually be fond of him. "Glad that my looks isn't causing you any headaches."

Zorane, as always, stepped in just in time. He glanced at the young woman on his arm and gestured to the rest of them. "You might recognize that this is my lovely sister, Verena Lorak. And her betrothed, Cassius Paille."

The girl smiled politely. "Celia Ackina. Pleasure to meet you. Zorane talks about you quite a bit."

"He never mentioned you before." Verena looked at Celia closer. She was a small thing, especially clad in the elaborate green dress decorated with laces and jewels. The Ackina was pretty, but then again, every one of Zorane's past lovers was pretty. "The color makes you look pale," she observed.

Celia faltered, the smile dropping from her face. But she regained her composure quickly - like she was expecting it. Well, Zorane did talk about her it seemed. She shrugged stiffly. "It is one of the few fancy dresses I own. I am not related close enough to the main family to be very wealthy."

Zorane's smile was as brilliant as ever. "You'll have to pardon my sister, she has always been amazingly blunt."

"It's quite alright. I rather have her say it out right rather than gossip about it with the others." Her eyes wandered around the room for a moment. "I think I saw my mother. If you'll excuse me." Soon, she left with Zorane.

Yvenna chatted with Cas for a while, talking about security and the Sea of Grass. Verena barely listened, her mind already wandering about. It didn't take long until Yvenna was called by someone in the crowd and left the pair alone.

Cas escorted her to their table. Fortunately, it seemed like they were assigned to dine with the Loraks instead of the Pailles. Cas straightened, his bright eyes searching the room. "I have to find my brother. Do you want to come with?"

Far too quickly, Verena replied, "No."

Cas didn't seemed to notice and left with a quick squeeze of her arm. She watched him as he weaved through the crowd. They had known each other for quite a long time now and she couldn't understand why she didn't fall for him. Cas was as attractive as Caedmon and almost as kind. People would that it was because Cas used to fool around so much, but Verena truly did not care for that. Sexual desire is a biological function and it was not out of place some might crave for it more than the other. Still, she cared for Cas no more than she cared for Zorane.

The party was getting further as the music turned louder and glasses clinked against each other. Bright colors mixed with each other, moving and churning. She ran her fingers across her own dress, pale blue in color, completely outshines by everyone else. Her head had started to throb, so she blocked most things out, trying to drown herself by listing anatomical name. Lost in thought, Verena took a sip of her beverage, savoring the sweetness of it on her tongue.