Company+of+the+Phoenix+Session+6

 ** Session 6** **4/1/2016** **Continued Pre-Wedding Celebrations in Suzail and Trouble at the Huntscrown Estate** The third night into the celebrations, it was to be The Night of Story and Song... The Goldswords took very good care of their guests with a big breakfast and throughout the day, many members of the Carnival of Masks put on many different shows throughout the streets. As evening fell, colorful lanterns and lights lit up at various stations where groups of bards were set up to each tell a story. Alix and Anuul went off on their own. Alaric, Charlemagne , and Tiri traveled together telling their own story of the rescue of the Wyvernspurs and the Ashweaver, now held by the heroic nobleman warrior Charlemagne. A group of people followed them around listening to the tale and seemed very curious about the blue-haired elf who was with them. "She dresses a little rustic, but she's a fine priestess," Alaric nodded to one of the citizens. Tiri gawked at him in offense, smoothing her priestess robes, "I'll have you know that my father is one of the finest tailors in the area. Sought after even by people from other countries." Alaric nodded to her, "Well that says a lot..." She scowled at his sarcastic insinuation. They went on to the first station to hear tales of sightings of a flying ship! It had been seen in several locations in Impiltur, sometimes just vanishing from sight! Rumors had surfaced that an elven prince and his company sailed the ship. Charlemagne turned to Tiri, "Have you heard of such tales?" She shook her head, "Only the briefest of rumors... I don't know much about it." "It sounds like tall tales to me," Alaraic shook his head. "Yes... we know how those elves like to stretch the truth," Charlemagne agreed. Tiri laughed, "Oh yes... because I've heard the tales that you two spread about our adventures. There's no stretching there..." She rolled her eyes. "Elven prince..." Alaric went on, and chuckled, "Probably some stable boy that they just call a prince." Tiri turned to him narrowed eyes, "Is that how you talk about YOUR king?" "Well, no," the nobleman mage shook his head, "Because he's a king." Charlemagne leaned closer to the priestess, nudging her, "I think that he's saying that somehow you're inferior." She nodded to him, still scowling at the mage, "I think he's saying that too." "How many elven princes are there?" Alaric asked as though humoring her. "Several," she nodded, "How many HUMAN princes are there?" "Currently? ...none," the green eyed sorcerer shook his head, "but there are 7 princesses." The blue-eyed elven woman raised an eyebrow, "Surely there are other human princes and princesses... this isn't the only HUMAN kingdom." "It's the only one that matters," he smirked and nodded. "Oh... I see," her voice was surly and sarcastic. "The only true civilized kingdom," he nodded again, speaking with arrogant confidence. "Are the elves not civilized?" Charlemagne raised an eyebrow, turning to Tiri, "Do you drink of the blood and eat of the flesh?" "No! Well... rabbit flesh..." Tiri shrugged. "Oh, rabbit flesh," Charlemagne nodded, licking his lips. The stories went on to say that the ship had never been seen firing on anyone, in fact no weapons had been seen on it. "Such a military asset that would make," Alaric nodded. "They said it didn't have any weapons on it," Tiri shook her head. "Put some warmages on it and you have plenty of weapons," he retorted. The bards went on to say that rumors had it that the paladins of Lathander believed the ship should be destroyed because it thins the walls between worlds... making it easier for demonkind to get here. "Well if we run into it, we should certainly capture it for Cormyr ," Alaric nodded. Tiri frowned at him, "I think it's a bit above your paygrade." "Do you think it has anything to do with the dead rising from the graves and traveling like zombies into that mountain?" Charlemagne asked seriously as he contemplated the rumored dangers of such a ship. Tiri nodded to him, "It's an interesting theory..." The companions made their way through the winding gardens to the second station where a bard was playing a flute next to an elf in a green cloak. A green fire burned in front of them as they wove their tale. The elven woman said that she had traveled from the east where a great shaft of light had stretched from the heavens to the earth. She and many others traveled to the southern edge of Impiltur in the Gray Forest where the light had touched the earth... and there was a fully grown tree... unlike any that they had ever seen. It had leaves of many species of trees, colored in the colors of the gods! She conjured a 3-dimensional map, showing where the tree resided. "A long journey for certain, but perhaps one day," Alaric nodded. "If we only had a flying ship... heck even a water ship would get us there," Charlemagne nodded. There were rumors that the Lords of Bloodstone had begun to resettle Vaasa. A wildlands for many years since the destruction of a witch king. "They sound like they're in need of a king," Charlemagne declared, nodding excitedly, "Let's head up there." "I believe Bloodstone has a king," Tiri shook her head. "Vaasa though," Alaric nodded, "We could carve out our own empire there." "Exactly! That's what I'm thinking," Charlemagne agreed. Something came up about needing to be racist... "I could probably swing that," Charlemagne nodded. Tiri laughed and shook her head, "I think you two have that pretty down pat and would excel." "Wow," Alaric blinked in surprise at the young priestess, "Tiri doesn't seem to be very pleasant company this evening... I think we've offended her in some way." "She probably just doesn't know you're jesting, Cousin. She doesn't understand your humor like I do," Charlemagne nodded. "Yes, I suppose my humor is more refined than she's used to," Alaric agreed. "If you have any at all," Charlemagne laughed and Alaric laughed with him. Tiri shook her head. The nobleman warrior picked up popcorn from one of the stands on their way through the gardens to the next station, snacking on it as they listened to the next bard. "The King has decreed that any warrior who is able to stop the orc invasion... for good... will be awarded title and tower," the young bard pointed out the northern edge of a Cormyrian map, "It's called the Tower of Ruin... a tower that has been abandoned for quite some time." "Well then... we shall stop these orcs and claim this land in the name of Goldsword," Alaric nodded. Tiri and Charlemagne looked at each other and then at the mage who blinked back at them. "I mean... the Company of the Phoenix," Alaric nodded to them. "And all we have to do is stop this measly orc invasion," Charlemagne agreed. Rumor spoke of the orcs trickling in with more intelligence and organization than has ever been seen by orcs in the past. Alaric nodded, "We shall find this head and take it down... and the tower will rise from the ashes like a phoenix." The tower was a key position between Cormyr and the Forest of Cormanthor. "We'll have to turn our attention to this orc problem," Alaric suggested. "We should convene a meeting to decide what course of action would be the most prudent at this time," Charlemagne agreed. Tiri blinked at the usually short phrased and to the point warrior, "That was a lot of big words." He grinned at her and nodded, "I've been working on it. I've been reading." She giggled and nodded her approval. "We should consider hiring others to fill out our Company of the Phoenix," he nodded. "I could use a squire," Charlemagne agreed, "And I shall call him Billy." "You do need a squire," Alaric nodded. The companions rounded to the last station to hear a local Cormyrian tale of a ship leaving the port of Hultail, heading across the Wyvernwater lake for Yeoman Bridge disappeared while on the lake. The sole survivor, known as Cecil Moorlen, claimed that a great seamonster had devoured the ship! "We should track this Cecil down, and hear his story," Alaric nodded, "For all we know it was just a raft with a really big pike fish... after the wedding, of course. We still have much revelry and princesses to swoon." "And a prince," Tiri nodded in agreement. "What prince?" Alaric turned to her. "You know... the elven gryphon rider, Nuada... from Highmoon," Tiri nodded, "He's supposed to be here somewhere." "Why would an elven prince come here?" he asked. "For a princess's wedding," she answered, "Perhaps he was invited." "Those elves just show up like they're welcome everywhere," Charlemagne shrugged, "Flying ships and all..." Tiri laughed and nodded, "We are kind of like that... because who doesn't like elves." She shrugged. It was late in the evening after all of the stories were told, and a steady influx of more and more people were still showing up in the city. It looked like it was going to be the event of the century. Charlemagne and Alaric took Tiri to one of the local hot spots called The Frothing Mug. A masked entertainer was inside performing sleight of hand tricks. She was dressed to entertain with a low cut and open midriff outfit that showed off her physical beauty. A colorful carnival mask covered her face, showing only her blue eyes. While conversing with the entertainer, they learned that the next night would be Banners and Colors where all of the noble houses would be hosting small parties... where there would be a parade of groups going from house to house. Each house was rumored to be giving away a gift. It was all to culminate at the home of Huntscrown Estate where a grand event was planned. "Will your house be competing in such an event?" Tiri turned to Alaric. "Of course! We're a first tier estate," he nodded to her, "We have golden rings carved with dragon scales on them." "How generous, cousin!" Charlemagne nodded to him, "I love it when you throw your wealth around." "Of course! We're the Goldswords... we wouldn't be outdone by anyone else," Alaric agreed, "It shall be a grand event. We shall have to travel to all of the houses and pick up all of our gifts." Tiri nodded, "It sounds like a lot of fun... like trick-or-treating." "What is this 'trick-or-treating' you speak of?" Charlemagne asked. "You know... it's kind of like during the All Souls event," she nodded. "Is this an elven thing?" he asked. "Well yes, but the elves are more about honoring the dead and departed souls," Tiri nodded, "I've read that humans celebrate it as well except more strangely... with children dressing up in costumes, pulling silly pranks, and getting treats from around the neighborhoods." "That sounds like madness," he shook his head, "Children dress in costumes of monsters and go around begging?" Tiri laughed softly, "Perhaps it's more of a commoner event." The group returned to the Goldsword estate where Alaric's mother, Katelyn, was happy to entertain despite the late hour, and poured them each a glass of brandy as they retired to the smoking room... a study that reeked of tobacco scent. Tiri scrunched up her nose. As they retired to their rooms for the night, Alaric paused in the hallway near the priestess, "Are you sure you don't want me to have leaves fetched for you?" "I don't sleep on leaves! I have a wonderful bed covered in elven silk at home," she insisted. "There will be no bringing of whores into the Goldsword estate," he turned to Charlemagne. "If you hear anything from my room, pay it no mind... I just have some things to take care of... I occasionally have night terrors and have to fend off demons," the young warrior replied. Tiri blinked at him, "But that hasn't happened the entire time we've been traveling together." He shrugged and stepped into his room. Everyone rejoined at the breakfast table in the morning. A suit arrived for Charlemagne from the local Rallyhorn estate in his family's colors. A young runner came to the door, dressed in the Ebonhawk colors, came to collect Alix to accompany his mother. Anuul couldn't keep still at the table. Charlemagne glanced over at her, "How are you this morning? You kind of disappeared last night..." "I was keeping him out of trouble," she pointed at Alix heading out the door. "Well I was looking all over for you, but you were nowhere to be found," Charlemagne shrugged, "Oh well..." "Just call me next time!" she nodded. "I'll find you." "Whatever... I tried to make time for you..." he pretended to be smug and aloof. Tiri turned to the kitsune, "Will you spending the day with us today?" "That'd be great!" Anuul nodded, still drumming her hands on the table unable to keep still in her chair. The young priestess nodded, "Wonderful! You're always welcome." "Of course you should come with us," Alaric nodded to the twitching young woman, "It's going to be grand fun." "Fantastic! Do you have something I can wear?" Anuul tilted her head. "Umm..." Alaric looked thoughtful. "Thank you for inviting her along, Cousin. She's going to be such a good time," Charlemagne's voice was monotone and sarcastic. "Indeed," Alaric nodded, "Any friend of Alix is a friend of ours." "How about if you and I go clothes shopping?" Tiri offered the young fox-eared girl. Anuul gasped excitedly, "You and I?" "Yes!" Tiri nodded. "Sweet!" Anuul nodded, her tail wagging, "I have some money." She held out her palm with a small handful of coins. "Oh," Tiri glanced at her hand and then smiled up at Anuul, "No, no. It'll be my treat!" "Y-you are... just..." Anuul leapt up from the table and hugged onto the blue-haired priestess who embraced her warmly with a laugh. "Elves are the bestest!" Anuul beamed happily. Tiri gestured at the kitsune, facing Alaric, "See." "And they're all rich!" Anuul continued on. Tiri laughed, "No... not all of them." "Well hurry back. Don't take too long," Alaric nodded at the two of them. "No, of course not. We're just going to put on something more... socially acceptable... here... in this culture," Tiri smiled sweetly. "Something not so... rustic?" Anuul grinned. "Exactly," Tiri nodded, "Something with tons of fabric and layers." Anuul and Tiri joined arms and pranced off through the door. "Ahhh... peace and quiet," Alaric sighed a relief, "And now we have some time to kill." The two cousins headed off to a local favorite among the nobles, The Dragonrider's Club... known for it's masked dancers. The lighting was dim with small orbs of light scattered about. It was fairly quiet, still early in the day... but several of the girls were crowded around one of the tables where a good deal of laughter and the clinking of coins was coming from. "Looks like that's where the party is, Cousin. Let's go introduce ourselves," Charlemagne nodded toward the table. "It's true," Alaric agreed, walking with him and muttering, "Probably some elven prince... man-whores that they are." An elven man, dressed very well, was speaking with the ladies who were all chattering about how they would love to go for a ride on his gryphon. "That sounds amazing. Tell us about this gryphon of yours," Alaric's voice came in, drawing the elf's eyes up over the shoulders of the women around him. Charlemagne stared at the women who were dressed very scantily from the waist down, nothing from the waist up, and masks over their faces. The girls turned and smiled at the familiar voice, "Lord Goldsword." "Ladies," Alaric nodded to them, "I know it's a bit early... but I wanted to bring my cousin and friend to experience the finest gentleman's club in Suzail." "Well then... Charlemagne, is it?" one of the dancers sauntered closer to the muscular warrior. "Yes, it is," he nodded, "Good afternoon, ladies." "Come with us," the dancers surrounded him, dragging him off. "B-but," Charlemagne glanced back over his shoulder, "I was really wanting to hear more about this gryphon." "Go with them," Alaric nodded to him, "You'll learn much more." The girls giggled around him, "We'll teach you the proper riding styles and such..." "I'll stay and talk with the elf here," Alaric assured him. "You do that," Charlemagne nodded. Nuada raised a glass to the warrior, "Happy riding." Alaric sat down next to him, "I haven't the heart to tell Charlemagne that there is no sex in the champagne room." "He doesn't know?" the well-dressed elven man raised an eyebrow, introducing himself to the mage as "Nuada Silvermist." "So have you come in for the wedding?" Alaric asked. "Yes," Nuada nodded, "I've just flown in from Highmoon." "On your gryphon..." Alaric nodded, "How did you come to have such a splendid mount? Is it common among your people?" "For our scouts," Nuada nodded. "Ah, you are a scout then?" Alaric asked. "Yes," the white-haired elf nodded, "I train the gryphon riders." "Well, a pleasure to meet you," the golden-haired mage nodded, "I am Alaric Goldsword." "Your family is well to do here," Nuada nodded. "Indeed. I like to believe so, but we are but humble servants to the crown," Alaric nodded. "It is a good crown," Nuada raised his glass, "Azoun is a good man." Alaric nodded his agreement, "We have come to see the wedding. I've recently assembled a group of like minded individuals like Charlemagne and myself to form the company of the Phoenix... righting wrongs and fighting against plots here in Cormyr." He gestured to his prominently displayed badge. "Excellent!" Nuada nodded, "I'll drink to that!" He took a gulp from his glass. Alaric raised his own, taking a drink, "So you are from Highmoon?" "Indeed, It's on the very southern tip of the Cormanthor forest. We keep an eye on the border between Sembia and Cormyr," Nuada explained further, "We have a very fond and appreciative agreement with King Azoun. We do not offer any threat and help to keep an eye on the border... and he doesn't get into the affairs of how we handle tresspassers." "I'm sure the king is wise," Alaric nodded. "Indeed he is," Nuada agreed, "You've never been to Highmoon?" "Regretfully no, I haven't been to any of the elven lands... but perhaps our journeys will take us out there. I've met a few of your people and they are..." Alaric started. "Really?" the elven gentleman raised an interested eyebrow, and interrupted, "Here?" "Yes, a young ranger named Iowyn Moonsong," Alaric nodded, suddenly not wanting to share the name of their priestess. He remembered her dreamy eyes when she had spoken of him before. "I know this Iowyn," Nuada nodded, running his finger and thumb thoughtfully along his jaw, " She traveled with friend, Tiri... a young priestess of Corellion." "Yes," Alaric nodded thoughtfully, feigning a lack of recognition, "I think I remember her." A twinge of jealousy pulled at him... Tiri was his elf... their elf... and he suddenly didn't want this elf to be any closer to her. "Yes... We helped them on their journey into Cormyr as a matter of fact," the elven gryphon rider nodded. "I'm sure they were grateful for your company," Alaric nodded. "They enjoyed the ride," Nuada agreed. "It's not often that one can ride by gryphon back... it must be quite the experience," the young mage continued. "It's not all that different from horseback to be honest," Nuada dismissed the notion with a casual wave of his hand, "The saddle does most of the work. I would happily show you if you decide to come out our way. We always welcome Cormyrian nobility in Highmoon." "Excellent. I will certainly take you up on that if my journeys take me that way," Alaric nodded, "I hope you enjoy the wedding here and everything goes splendidly... not to mention the delights of the gentleman's club here." "Exquisite," Nuada agreed. The dancers took Charlemagne to a small dark booth in the corner where the pulled a curtain for privacy. They removed several pieces of his fine clothing, one dancing near while another ran her fingers over his jaw and chest. The young warrior fumbled over his words, trying to pull his clothing back on, "I should really be getting back to my friend..." "Nuada is a marvelous conversationalist... I'm sure Lord Goldsword is well occupied," one of the dancers shrugged softly, as another leaned in closer to him, "As are you... are you not?" "Yes, but I don't really have enough time..." Charlemagne shook his head, getting up, "Not the time that I would need to take care of business properly... so I'm just going to cut it short... and get back to my friend... and... yeah... you ladies have a wonderful day." He pulled his clothes back on. "Have a good day then, Charlemagne..." the young dancers looked sorrowful, "We look forward to when you do have the time..." "Sure, sure... as soon as my schedule clears," he nodded, drawing back the curtain, "I'll run back here as quickly as possible." He walked away quickly, heading back to the table. The young warrior arrived at the table,alone. Alaric looked up at him surprised, "Finished already?" "I have my standards," Charlemagne shook his head, "And I didn't feel right... you know it's a..." Alaric raised an eyebrow, "Are you shy, Charlemagne?" "No, no... it's just not right... strange," the young warrior shook his head. "Well... this is my cousin Charlemagne," Alaric turned back to the elven gryphon rider, "He's never been to a gentleman's club before..." he turned back to the young warrior, "I was just talking to Nuada here." "Do tell, cousin," Charlemagne took a seat with them. "He patrols along our northeastern border. Quite the starward individual," Alaric nodded. "These elves are so flighty... Always above us in one way or another. Isn't that right, cousin?" the young warrior spoke a little curtly. "I wouldn't say that," Alaric shook his head, "This fellow is quite down to earth." "Well he is now... his damn gryphon landed," Charlemagne snorted. Alaric raised his eyebrow at his cousin and turned back to their companion, "You'll have to forgive my cousin... Charlemagne here is more used to the battlefield and the clang of steel... These social situations sometimes see him a bit off." "I understand that," the elf nodded, "I have a friend not unlike that." "Well, we were just wishing that he has a splendid time here at the wedding," Alaric nodded to his cousin, "and of course to invite him by to the various estates for the events this evening." The young mage explained how it was to work and was sure to send him through at an earlier time than his own group would be walking...

"He may show up at some point.... said he was some kind of scout or something," Alaric shrugged again. "Well I do hope I get to see him again," Tiri nodded, "I haven't seen him since he helped Iowyn and I on our way to Cormyr." "On his gryphon," Alaric nodded, obviously remembering the story. "I've heard he's roguishly handsome!" Anuul leaned in. "I wouldn't say that," the mage disagreed. "He has long white hair... and green eyes," Tiri sighed dreamily. "Oh, I like white hair," Anuul nodded excitedly. "Well perhaps we could set him up with you," Alaric offered quickly. "You know for a smoothie, that's not a bad idea," the kitsune nodded, "Maybe since he's exotic like an elf, he might not mind the fur..." Tiri grinned over at her, "He might find it sexy even." Slowly as evening fell, groups of nobles began to tour from house to house. "I believe that's our queue to go visit the other houses," Alaric suggested as he looked out over the balcony, dressed in sparkling gold. The others gathered at the door as the young mage paused near his mother, "I heard you were to have a private conversation with a certain Cormyrian princess later." "Oh, you're speaking of the financier, Ily'Aleera," she nodded. "Yes, I'd be interested to know how that conversation goes," he nodded to her. She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slowly at him, "You've never been one to be interested in our finances..." "That's not true... I'm always interested in our family business," he smiled charmingly. "He's not a very good liar," Charlemagne leaned close and whispered to the priestess who laughed and nodded in agreement. "Okay then," Katelyn nodded to her son. "Please tell me everything when I return," Alaric smiled at her. "Of course," she shrugged as though it was nothing. "Would you rather stay and partake in the meeting?" Tiri asked from the entryway as Alaric arrived. "No, no... that would be rude. I have a duty to escort you and our companions to the noble houses," he assured her, nudging them all out the door. "Very well then," she agreed, accepting his offered arm, "It's very noble of you... are there any social queues we should be aware of?" Alaric went on to explain how the tour worked and how the houses offered drinks, appetizers, and various things until they got to the end where there would be dinner and dancing. "Too bad you don't have a dance partner... it's such a waste of beauty," Charlemagne nodded. "He's so sweet!" Anuul fawned over the warrior. Alaric smiled charmingly, "Of course I will dance with both of you." "Aww, that's very sweet of you," Tiri nodded. Anuul glanced at Charlemagne, "You're not going to kick me again, are you?" "I'm going to kick you like there's no tomorrow," Charlemagne chuckled. "But I was just starting to heal!" the young kitsune rubbed her leg in remembrance of the pain when she had danced with her dear friend, Alix... she was able to dodge faster when she switched to the warrior. Each of the houses passed out some sort of gift to each of the nobles passing through the tour... rings, jeweled pennants, pins, necklaces... in various precious gems and shiny silver and gold. Alaric was sure to introduce his companions to the families as they toured. They finally rounded the corner to the Huntscrown estate set up with high end savory dishes, a dance area, a seating area, a fountain, and stairwairs. Several nobles and merchants were already gathered at the estate. The family was giving everyone a beautiful onyx gem with prongs that pinned on as gifts. The meal was outstanding... fresh seafood from the port, prime rib, and several delicious dishes. Alaric escorted Tiri to the dance floor, offering her the first dance. Charlemagne took Anuul out beside them, happy that the kitsune was fast enough to match him in his dance. The young warrior nudged the priestess afterward and gestured to the fountain, "There's that gentleman we were talking about." Tiri gasped in excitement as she recognized the elven gryphon rider sitting near the edge of the fountain gathering glasses from a tray, "Thank you, Charlemagne!" As the priestess started toward Nuada, she caught sight of the ranger woman Urd, dressed beautifully and almost unrecognizable in the crowd. Tiri turned back and caught Charlemagne's arm, and gestured across the room, "I believe that young woman there is Urd..." The warrior was practically giddy as he looked closer, recognizing the features now presented in fine clothes and makeup. As the two scanned the crowd further... next to her was princess Nazoun. Ily'Aleera and Nilyniel were nearby standing next to the betrothed couple Kalaree and Sebathian. An elven man was standing next the groom to be... the two were obviously close friends and shared inside jokes that they didn't even have to voice. Tiri recognized him instantly as her brother, More'nue. Al'Ashay, however, didn't seem to be anywhere in the crowd. Alix was also in attendance, standing near his mother and Kieraleigh. The crowd parted as Nilyniel made her way across the room. She walked straight to Charlemagne, "Lord Rallyhorn... I have good news. Your father arrived about an hour ago." Relief could be seen in the warriors shoulders as he nodded to her, "That is good news. Is he making his way here?" "I do not believe so," she shook her head, "I believe he's getting settled in the castle." "Very well. I'll be sure to go see him before the end of the evening," Charlemagne nodded, "Thank you for bringing me such glorious news." "It is my duty," she nodded her head, "The King's Sword is a very important station... one that you yourself may one day inherit. It is good that you and I have a rapport." "Indeed," Charlemagne agreed. "Nuada!" Tiri made her way across the room, pausing to greet the white haired elven man at the fountain, "It's such a pleasure to see you again." "Miss Embermoon," he turned to smile, "It is good to see you again. Where //have// you been?" "So busy... I made it to Arabelle and helped them start to rebuild," she began. "Things go well there?" he asked. "Yes," she nodded, "But orcs are still coming in to the kingdom, so the King called for volunteers and I joined one of the companies... trying to rid the lands of the invading filth." "Green filth and wretches," he agreed, "I see you joined the company of the Phoenix." He gestured to the badge that she wore emblazoned with the fiery bird. "Yes," she nodded, "But what of you? Are you here for the wedding?" "Yes, I'm here for the celebration and to pass on our blessings," he nodded. "Fantastic! The representative of Highmoon," she nodded. "Yes, exactly," he nodded. "Will you save me a dance?" she asked. "Of course, you needn't ask," he nodded, settling in, "I will wait right here for you." He kissed her hand. She melted slightly, "Oh... you're the absolute sweetest." She leaned in to kiss his cheek, "Give me just a moment to go and greet my brother." "Your brother?" he asked. "Yes," she nodded gesturing to the white haired elven man standing near the groom to be, "Have you met More'nue?" "I have not... but his reputation has spread far and wide," Nuada replied. "Oh! Well by all means..." she offered him her hand, "Allow me to introduce you." "More'nue!" Tiri called out, travelling quickly across the floor. Hearing his name, her brother turned to recognize and rushed to meet her, sweeping her off of her feet in an embrace as she hugged onto him, ignoring all social graces and forgetting the room around her. "You made it!" He set her down. "Yes! It's so good to see you!" She smiled wide, "I've been looking everywhere for you." He grinned, "I've been a little busy..." "Yes," she laughed, "Being the best man and all." "That and the security of this thing is a nightmare," he shook his head. "Well if you need any help," she grinned, "You should come and meet my company." "I would be glad to meet those you travel with," he nodded. She quickly escorted him, catching the gryphon rider in her other arm to take them both over to her companions, introducing all of them. "Welcome to Cormyr," Alaric nodded, "Have you found everything delightful so far?" More'nue nodded, "More than delightful. It is an honor to be among such good people." "It has been an honor to travel with your sister," the young mage nodded, "She is most favored in Corellion's eyes." The young priestess blinked in surprise and then quickly nodded to the gold haired nobleman, "Thank you." "She has pulled us back from the brink of death... well Charlemagne mostly," Alaric gestured to his cousin, "many times." Charlemagne nodded his agreement, "I've come quite close to death on several occasions." Alaric nodded, "As he is in the thick of the battle wielding his mighty blade." More'nue raised an eyebrow at his younger sister. She shook her head, "Their tongue are silver. It hasn't been that bad." He nodded, and glanced at the elvish hilt in the scabbard at the warrior's hip, "A mighty blade indeed." "Would you like to see it?" Charlemagne laid a hand over the hilt. "Not here perhaps," the elven archer looked around at the crowd, "But yes." "You're right, it's not polite to bring out such a sword in fine company, but later then perhaps," Alaric nodded, "We have a tale to tell about how Charlemagne came to have such a blade." "I await your words," More'nue nodded. "Charlemagne, you seem to be feeling better this evening," Nuada nodded to the warrior. "Better, yes," the muscular nobleman nodded. "Excellent!" he nodded, "Buy you a drink?" He gestured toward the bar. "Maybe two," Charlemagne nodded. "Let's go," the elven gryphon rider walked off with the strong warrior. "I look forward to that dance later," Tiri reminded him. "Yes, of course. Dancing," he nodded back to her. "I'll teach you this great dance I know," Charlemagne nodded to him as they walked, "She'll love it." Alaric regaled More'nue with the story of the great elven hero against the drow tide in a dwarven keep and how he and his companions in a great final sacrifice left them in naught but smoking carcasses. "I've read the history of many of these," the elven archer nodded, "and all of them seem to have near the same fate... lost in some battle." "What valiant hero would not give up his life to see the ending of thousands of his enemies," Alaric nodded. "You were born to the wrong race, brother," More'nue clasped his arm, "You speak as though the blood of elves runs through your veins." Alaric seemed slightly taken aback by such a comment, but he nodded, his voice still uncertain of the compliment, "Thank you." "Not by the way he talks about them..." Tiri muttered under her breath. "Hmm?" her brother turned to her. "Nothing," she smiled sweetly back, "Chocolate?" She offered up a plate of fine chocolates. "I am sure that my cousin, Charlemagne, will wield the blade just as well," Alaric nodded. "It called to him," Tiri agreed, nodding, "It chose him." "What an honor," More'nue nodded. "Indeed," Alaric agreed. Nuada seemed content to buyout the bar as long as Charlemagne was content to drink it. Drinking, story-telling, and socializing continued on. Alaric made his way across the room to find Ily'Aleera dressed in the colors of Cormyr. She was cornered by several merchants over by the bar. She looked like she was in agony as they continued to question her about business and finaces. "Who's going to get the nod of minting the coin this year?" The golden haired nobleman swept in, "Ily'Aleera, there you are! I've been looking all over for you. You promised me that dance... though I hate to break up your conversation." One of the higher ranked merchants cast him a dirty look, but the Goldsword nobleman glanced back with arrogant confidence that the man was beneath him and not worthy of a challenge. "Oh, thank you m'lord Goldsword... I was meaning to talk with you. Excuse us gentlemen," she accepted Alaric's offered arm and took his offered opportunity of escape. "Oh please it's Alaric, just Alaric," he assured her, laying a soft hand over hers that was clasped loosely about his arm as he led her to the dance floor. "Thank you," she nodded to him, appreciative of the rescue as they walked. "I do apologize for being so informal with you, your highness," Alaric bowed slightly. "It is a relief to be true," she shook her head, "One does not always want to be the 'princess'." "I could certainly understand... especially for one so famous to control the purse strings," he nodded, "There are many who must seek your ear. I only seek a dance." "Then a dance you shall have, m'lord," she curtsied slightly. The two of them swept across the floor in grace and beauty, intimately familiar with formal dancing, and they looked amazing together. Several eyes watched them on the floor, wondering who was dancing with the princess. "You dance quite divinely," Alaric assured her. "As do you," she nodded seemingly with pleasant surprise, "Your mother did not tell me you were a dancer." "I'm not typically one for such things, but it's all... in the partner," he smiled charmingly. He didn't notice the scowl on the young elven priestess as they swept by in their dance. "Are you enjoying the festivities?" Alaric asked as he twirled the beautiful priestess about the floor. "Yes, very much. It's a pleasant break from the books... and the castle," she nodded. "And you're happy for your sister? He seems like quite the catch," Alaric glanced at the happy couple laughing with friends. Ily'Aleera smiled, "She and Sebathian have been like two peas in a pod since they met. We are all very happy for both of them." "It does seem to be true love," Alaric smiled and nodded to her. "We can only hope," the princess nodded. There was no 'caught up in the romance of it all' to her voice or expressions, she seemed more business about the whole affair, "Kalaree is strong enough to not see her father's rule run down." "Certainly Sebathian seems strong as well and shall make a fine partner," Alaric nodded. "It is our hope... Sebathian is... rough around the edges for a crown... but his bravery has never been questioned. He's loyal and noble to the bone," she nodded. "Indeed," Alaric nodded, "But enough about them... I'm more interested in you." This was the woman he had set his sights on long ago... and here he was dancing with her. "Clearly you have read the finance novels, so... what more is there to know about me?" her voice was a little sad, and she shook her head, smiling again, "Where as you... a founding member of the Phoenix, I've heard." "Yes, my company... I'll have to introduce you to my companions later this evening. A couple of other good Cormyrian nobles and a brave priestess of Corellion," he nodded. "Corellion?" she raised an eyebrow. "Yes," he nodded, "She has saved our lives several times. We're very fortunate that she has joined our cause." He glanced briefly over to see the elven woman laughing and nudging her elder brother, long blue hair tumbling in loose curls over her shoulders. The siblings seemed close. "Excellent," the elegant financier nodded, "I would like to meet her." "Indeed you shall... after our dance, of course," he smiled charmingly, letting his arm brush her back lightly as he drew her in from a twirl, "So what drew you to the world of finance?" "No one else could do it," she spoke rather matter-of-factly, "My father is a fine ruler, but he has no head for finance. It fell to me out of lack of anyone else doing it, and luckily for me I can do at least a decent job of it." "I'd say more than decent," the charismatic nobleman disagreed, "Your decisions regarding the taxation of the nobles... well some may say excessive... but we Goldswords see it as a necessity to maintain the coffers of the crown." "It is difficult decisions," she nodded, "Possibly insight a rebellion amongst one's neighbors vs the cost of securing that same neighbor." "Well you handle it all admirably," Alaric nodded, "Very diplomatic." "Not many have rushed to me to say so, so thank you," she nodded with a genuine smile, and changed the subject back the nobleman, "I heard that you were responsible for saving a Wyvernspur." "News does travel quickly... but yes," he nodded, "There were several who had perhaps bitten off more than they could chew, falling into difficult circumstances. We ran across those who were left in an underground area, perhaps dwarven. We were able to recover not only them, but several interesting items." She smiled, "I wouldn't have picked you as an adventurer... too well manicured." "My talents are more in the magical... but I believe that every Cormyrian nobleman should do what they can to aid the crown. It is one thing to sit in one's noble estate... it is another to directly vanquish those foes that threaten our kingdom. Noblemen should lead by example." "I agree," she nodded. "I heard that you are to meet with my mother later..." he escorted her off of the dance floor. "Yes," she nodded. "Ask her about her golden dragon statuette collection," he winked at her, "She's very proud of it." A knowing smile spread over Ily'Aleera's lips, "I shall do so." He led the princess over to introduce her to his cousin, "This is my companion, Charlemagne Rallyhorn... wielder of Ashweaver." She greeted the warrior, and shook her head to the mage, "I do not know this sword." "It is an ancient elven blade that we recovered from that Dwarven underground where we found the Wyvernspurs," he replied. Ily'Aleera looked around at the fairly powerful table of Alaric's companions... taking in the ranks of the people they associated themselves with... Charlemagne, Tiri, More'nue, Nuada, Alix, Anuul, and a young nobleman from Huntsilver. She herself was a princess now in the company of 4 Cormyrian nobles, a kitsune, a noble elven woman, a noble elven man who was the best man at the wedding, and an elven prince... As they all conversed, some sort of ruckus could be heard among the crowd around them and a piercing scream drew their attention as one of the guests was clutching her chest that was running red as she stumbled back into the fountain! People rushed from the area in a panic. Scanning the crowd, they seen a half dozen Cormyrian nobles had pulled their blades and were attacking those around them! Trying to process what was going on... Charlemagne turned to converse with Alix and watched in horror as the prongs from the onyx gemmed Huntscrown gift dug into the Huntsilver nobleman's chest... the onyx of the gem rolled around as the body of a spider that dug in deep... blood ran down his chest and his eyes rolled over black! He pulled his blade from his sheath... Charlemagne's eyes were wide as he shouted to his companions, "Something is wrong with the onyx broach! Get rid of it!" He grabbed onto his and felt it squirming in his hand. Alaric immediately pulled his with one hand and pulled off the one from Ily'Aleera's chest with the other! Tiri yanked off hers and More'nue's without hesitation, trusting fully in the warrior's words.