1 Malespero guard arrives, following Pasquale.

Scribble, a Delicate Social Butterfly arrives, following Delilah.

Isabetta wanders into the shop looking like she has no idea what said shop is. Her brows are lifted and her attention is quite torn this way and that. She finds a spot near the back, maybe she hopes for a speech.

The places are set, the lamps are burning, and a chest with a collection of liquors is placed on a well-polished table. Berto stands by the counter in conversation with Josephine, among a series of trinkets, knicknacks, and bottles. As each guest arrives, a small bell rings over the doorway, and the proprietor gives a big smile, rubbing his hands together with a fidgety energy and offering a low, wobbling bow as the enter. "Come, friends, one and all! Be welcome! Welcome to the grand opening of Grenaldo and Tiazza's!"

The slender figure of the new Count of House Corvini makes his way into the shop, escorting his wife, the lovely and inscrutable Countess Ilinca Corvini. "Master Tiazza," Giulio says, with a flash of a smile, "It seems very... you," he offers, grinning a little. His head tilts towards Josephine. "Mistress Arcuri," he offers, his smile a warm thing, eyes flitting from her to the various pieces of bric a' brac, before looking back towards the man running the shop. Or at least tending it.

Pasquale is talking in an under-tone with the guard a pace behind him as he makes his way into the shop. Pausing when he sets off the bell. It's given a side-look before he proceeds. Most things in the place are given side-looks, truth be told, some trinkets and bottles eyed with more skepticism than others.

Nothing like liquor to bring out the curious, though it might more reasonably said rumours of mysterious Southern Thunder are enough to lure a wayward Whitehawk girl from whatever lofty aerie she occupies. Delilah slips in without much fanfare, wrapped up in a cloak against the autumn cold, taking in everything all at once. One really shouldn't attempt to drink the whole ocean, but never blame her for lack of trying. The light, delicate footsteps are defined while the bell chimes over her in loud brassy tones. Such a lovely sight to see, and all she can do not to jump at the sound. Better to start a circuit.

Ilinca steps into the shop on Giulio's arm, dark green eyes immediately lifting to drink in as many details of the shop as she can all at once. She scans the collection of liquors with all their labels before moving on -- with yet more curiosity -- the the knick-knacks crowding the tables and shelves. "Maestro Tiazza,I do believe I could get lost in here," she intones her rich accent and, by the sound of it, she means it to be a compliment.

"Count Corvini! How are you faring these days?" Josephine smiles wide, looking over as the bell rings each time someone new is admitted. There's a grasp of the procured bottle and she lifts it to Berto. "I shall get back to you on how my clients like it, or at least my family and shall turn you loose to your impending doom."

There's something of a smile that toys Giulio's lips as he notes Pasquale's entrance and rather skeptical consideration, before turning in the direction of the Whitehawk lass, considering her rather bubbly sort of demeanor. His gaze flits back toward Berto, but, is arrested by the address of Arcuri matriarch, his head tilting her way. "Quite well," he offers, with a grin. "Quite well. It is always so pleasant to see things coming together."

"Count, Countess. Thank you, thank you truly for coming. Hope the two of you are pleased with how my little venture is coming. It's a pleasure to have you here," Berto says with a sweeping gesture to all of its... everything. Josephine gets another wide smile and another nod. "Thank you, Mistress, for coming by. Please, tell me how it's taken--I'll be sure to send folk your way!" To the others arriving, he simply smiles. "Welcome, friends; welcome all!"

Josephine's presence calls to Delilah more than others, the raise of her voice good for that. Though the Count and Countess deserve their greetings first, and she inclines her head in their direction, Giulio and Ilinca receiving that ghostly uplift of her smile cast into finer definition. "This truly is lovely, isn't it? I am so glad to find somewhere unique tucked away into the city."

Lailah arrives with little fanfare, looking around for familiar faces. She's curious, to be sure, but she's not curious enough to try to ensure she stands out. Spotting Delilah, the Bisland lady heads over to her near-namesake.

"Lord Guilio, my lady," Pasquale greets the Count and Countess Corvini politely. Attempting to moderate his squinting. Particularly when it's directed at Berto. "You must be the owner. This place is quite...eclectic." He attempts to make it sound a compliment. His success is marginal. "When I heard the descriptions of this place, I had to see it for myself. And examine the alcohol on offer, of course."

Isabetta seems content to watch the event unfold around her as it were, staying silent and out of the way.

There's a wave to Delilah from the the jeweler before she's moving away toward the door with her bottle of cordial in hand.

Demetria Arcuri leaves, following Josephine.

"We would never have missed it, Maestro," Ilinca replies, her mouth curving into a soft smile. A nod of greeting is then offered in reply to both Delilah and Pasquale before she says, almost absently, "Did I tell you, Iulio, that it was Donna Arcuri who made your ring for you? A pity she was on her way out. I am sure she would love to hear your compliments on it."

"But of course, good Master Tiazza -- how could I but do otherwise with such a lovely sense of endeavor," Giulio says, flashing Berto a smile, his head inclining in the man's direction. "I'm certain there will be more than a few to find the measure of such delights." His grin is amused. Lailah receives a smile and a brief inclination of his head, those dark eyes tracking over her, as she flits towards Delilah. Isabetta is not left out of his considerations, coal black eyes tracking her way, offering a small nod of greeting, though his lips quirk as he observes Pasquale speaking to Berto, one hand rising to hide a chuckle.

"I am, indeed, your lordship is quite correct, the humble proprietor. Berto Tiazza, at your service--the very face of Grenaldo and Tiazza's, for my sins!" Berto gives a bobbing nod toward Pasquale, lowering his head with every third word. He looks over toward Ilinca with a grin, giving her a wink. "Mistress Arcuri was kind enough to come by before the rush, Countess. A few good words, from one proprietor to another."

Another wave to mark the departure of Josephine, and Delilah for a moment has her work cut out for her, finding the bottle she wants for herself. The scrutiny takes place through a screen of somewhat familiar faces. "Lady Bisland," she intones the moment Lailah falls within murmur-shot, a distinct difference from a whisper or actual normal conversational level. "How good to see you again. I heard such fine things about the Southern Thunder, it may be something to stow away in the cellar as a present for your brother. Or yourself." Amending the thought leaves her smiling, at any rate, and she transfers her attention back to Pasquale and Giulio. "The turnout is very good, which delights me to see." She touches her fingertips to her throat, that nod gracious as they come. "I am familiar with Lord Malespero there, we met in the Black Fox."

"Pleasure," Pasquale says, eyeing the complimentary bottles. The black ones attract him. They match his overall look. "Lord Pasquale Malespero. How would you describe the taste of that one?" He points to the cordial. The sound of his surname from someone else makes his head turn, and he smiles slight at Delilah. "The Lady of Whitehawk. Evening." She, and Lailah with her, get a polite dip of his chin.

Ilinca nods once to her husband at something her murmurs quietly to her. "If that is what you prefer, dragostea meu, then so be it." Her lips twitch once more, this time in shared amusement, as she catches a few snippets of the proprietor's conversation with Pasquale. "Have you tried any of the man's latest creations? I am only familiar with the Thunder."

"Ah, the Black Tower. Sweet and citrus, smoth as silk, crisp and clean--a delight of the senses, truly." Berto rubs his hands together, and looks over toward Delilah and Lailah. "Ah, Ladies! Welcome, welcome--a joy to have you, truly. If I-" The man starts to stretch his neck upward, gives a bit of a huff, and pulls one of the chairs from the table to climb onto the seat.

"Mmm, rather such," Giulio remarks, his lips quirking at the corners. His head tilts in Delilah's direction. "It has been sometime since we last spoke -- I pray affairs are treating you well? And may I introduce you to my wife, Countess Ilinca Corvini." There's a glance towards Ilinca, as he adds, "Lady Whitehawk was a former Inquisitor as well, though, she left just before I joined." Those eyes flit towards Berto and he laughs a bit at the man's showmanship.

"I remain an inquisitor, as a matter of fact," murmurs Delilah, outed as such a thing no doubt. She hardly sounds troubled by any such statement, admitting the obvious with an inclination of her head that sends her copper braids washing over her slim shoulder in a heavy tumble. "Though more significantly, the Emissary of the Scholars if we're to stand upon any question of titles. Occasionally known to find intriguing uses for pinecones or ask questions of everything. Lord Pasquale," she adds in warm notes. "Have you had the opportunity to yet meet Lady Lailah Bisland? A recent addition to the city." The natural warmth there carries on easily enough, and she gestures. "How delightful to meet you, Countess Ilinca. I believe had a fleeting opportunity to see you at the Gala, as grand a coming out as any. You both cut a striking couple and I wish you every happiness." The mirth radiating from her like a second sun clearly means that, too. "Black Tower. Ah, a man after my heart, smooth citrus. Truly I'm doomed by that."

Dolmen, a Crimson Agent, Private Fane, Crimson Blade Assistant arrive, following Harlex.

Lailah's existence has been pointed out, and she smiles towards Pasquale, "A pleasure." She eyes Berto's apparent theatrics, and glances towards Delilah questioningly. She doesn't waste much time on that, but smiles towards Ilanca as well. "A lovely little estavlishment, isn't it?"

"An Inquisitor AND a Scholar, my lady?," Ilinca asks, almost laughing at the thought - a warm, rich sound thanks to her low alto. "How very, very much paperwork you must have to deal with. You have my congratulations on being entrusted with such important work, and all of my sympathies at having such heaping piles of it, ne? And my welcome to you also, Lady Bisland. I am not living in the city long myself." Of course, this may already be obvious, given the thickness of her (somewhat obscure version of a) Lycene accent.

Pasquale makes a "Hrm" sound at the 'sweet' description from Berto. "Well, I do like a touch of citrus. And I rather like the artistry of it." Black towers, and all. "I've not sampled anything yet, Countess, though that shall change after tonight." A second look is given to Lailah at the House name of 'Bisland.' "I've not had the honor. Lord Pasquale Malespero, as I may have said sometime tonight. Welcome to Arx. You come to a good place to arm yourself. The city is far more pleasurable if one has a well-stocked liquor cabinet."

"Lieutenant, I don't quite see how this is work," Private Fane asserts as Harlex and his cohorts enter the shop. A tall, broad chested figure in dark clothes; rough clothes. At his waist, a heavy sword belt with a pair of blades on the left side one-atop-the-other. His eyes are lightning green and his features are set with a grim expression. But he glances back at the private for a moment and says, "It ain't." The quiet one between them, a red-headed fellow, only snickers and shakes his head. The retainers wander off and the sellsword wanders in to the thick of the festivities. His wolfish demeanor ever so and his gait steady and set to its task, to get his hands on some whisky and or beer.

Sir Alren, 2 Templar Knight guards arrive, following Bianca.

"Most interesting," Giulio remarks, his lips quirking at the corners. "I must have been mistaken. Or affairs changes," he muses, inclining his head in the Delilah's direction. "A thousand pardons." At the mention of the Scholars, he simply inclines his head. "Another service to which, I, alas, no longer find myself." His hands spread and he flits his hand outwards. "I've no doubt you do most well in those roles," he muses. "Lady Bisland," he offers, politely towards Lailah, before his gaze flits towards the man entering -- before, at last, glancing towards where Berto stands upon the chair.

"My friends!" Berto moves to stand on the chair, and wobbles just a little as he pulls himself up--the wood and wicker starting to creak under his heft. "Welcome, one final time, to Grenaldo and Tiazza's. I beg of you, a moment's indulgance, and no more." He claps his hands together,fingers around his palms. A glance toward Harlex as the man steps inside, and then he returns his attention to the room as a whole. "Permit me to offer a few thanks. Starting with my partner, Master Grenaldo, to whom I'm ever indebted--and whose miraculous curatives will soon be on offer at this establishment!"

"Horrific amounts. But the paperwork means understanding, so I make such sacrifices. Too much, I fear." Delilah raises her hands in defense of that bane of all things, for the scholastic adventurer she personifies must ward off yet more work. Hers is the natural heat of a mezzosoprano shot by duskier richness, capable of rising in a warm note then. "A well-stocked liquor cabinet cannot be overlooked at that front. Still, she tenders that warm smile in Giulio's direction. "You have a great deal to do, my lord, what with bringing Iasu to the Compact and establishing its position. I have no doubt that you will continue to score considerable coups while attention drifts to other parts. One day we might all turn around and find an influential city on our shores, and I'll be delighted to see it."

Bianca stepped into the shop, flanked by her usual diligent guard of Templar who did not appear to be particularly pleased about the diversion from evening reverences. Well, more so Sir Alren looked dour and the other two were simply too afraid of him to not at least pretend to be staunch themselves. The Legate had entered just in time to catch Berto rising in greeting and request to be heard. She stepped aside to stay on the outer border of the crowd of patrons gathered, the guards falling into place surrounding her but at least out of the way.

Laudine, a stern middle-aged maidservant arrives, following Tabitha.

Harlex isn't so far into the establishment that he misses the sudden appearance of Bianca and her guards and Alren who he's developed a good; 'staring at one another' relationship followed by nods and the not much else. He slips over to her side and stands with the Legate as Berto gives thanks. He stands a half-lean, his hands on the front of his broad belt.

The word 'curatives' makes Pasquale's eyes sharpen on Berto. Skeptical look a touch longer and harder for that. He listens politely, head turning as more file into the shop. Harlex gets a polite nod of his chin, Bianca slight bow of his slim shoulders.

A quiet Tabitha is quiet, weaving her way through the clutter-laden avenues of this greeting. Hands clasped in front of her waist, she looks this way and then that way, eyes widening until they alight on the familiar figure of her cousin. And so, with dainty steps and a swish of blue silken skirts, the slender artist moves quickly towards the safety of the other Whitehawk lady.

Whatever reply it was that Ilinca might offer - and one certainly sprang quickly to her lips at the mention of Iasu - she falls silent as Berto begins to adress the crowd. She turns towards him, lifting her eyes to take in the sights of his speech, what with all of its accompanying wobbling and hand waving.

"Oh, I do keep my hand in, now and again," Giulio remarks blandly. "Some small bit of research," he admits towards Delilah. "A few little theories here and there. Some archivist work for the Mirrorguard. A few other things of some minor interest." His head titls towards Bianca as she enters. "Legate," he says, respectfully. "I pray the eve finds you well." Casually, those eyes flit towards Harlex. Something of a smirk twitches his lips, either at him or the wider touch of skepticism in Pasquale's eyes.

Leaning in, he whispers something to Ilinca, before returning his attention to Berto.

"Second," Berto says with a bow and a flourish toward Ilinca, standing atop a chair (perhaps the only way to be seen in the clutter and the crowd around his store), "to the Countess Ilinca of Corvini! Whose wisdom and good grace have seen her people and ours--mine included!--to this new adventure, in this shining center of civilization and commerce. All this under the direction of his Lordship," another dipping bow, him and the chair both wobbling, this toward Giulio. "His Lordship has been more than kind to me. It's by his good grace that I stand before you today; sorting out the misfortune and misunderstandings that befel me, seeing some small value in a humble brewer and distiller, and inviting me into his service. I only hope I can repay him."

"A pleasure, Lord Pasqualre. While I am not opposed to a nice drink, I find it hard to do my work when my senses are muddled with drink, so alas I cannot afford myself to indulge too much." Lailah answers, and smiles as Bianca comes in and turns that way, "Legate Bianca." She says warmly, "Long time no see." Her gaze and ears turn towards the rest of the gathering, taking in the various goods for sale and under discussion.

Bianca glanced aside with a murmur for the man as Harlex joined her on the border of the room and Alren made no motion to halt the approach. Pasquale's acknowledgment did not go unnoticed and in turn he to received a small bow of her head. Giulio's greeting was not missed either and he too received a bow of the holy woman's head. "Count Giulio, good to see you. I am well. I hope to steal a moment of your time before we both depart?" The question was soft in tone so as not to speak over Berto and rather ride the current of sound beneath his words. It was also left open ended as her attention turned and eyes widened a touch. Along with that surprise rose a grin that glimmered in its controlled excitement. "Lady Lailah, welcome return to Arx. I have missed you." Again, at a lower volume.

Delilah turns the full of her attention to Berto as he begins to speak, though not without throwing some light Harlex- and Legate-ward. Bianca receives that deepening tip of her smile. But in the rotation so she conveniently offers her arm to Tabitha just as the dainty vision in cerulean finds her way there, as though the pair of them orchestrated a dance of apeparances.

The arm that Delilah offers might as well be a solid plank of wood in the wake of a shipwreck, given all the quick relief Tabitha seems to exhibit when she links her own through it. With a quick but heartfelt smile to her cousin, she leans up a little and whispers something to her, but it's a brief exhchange before she turns her attention to Berto, with little nods and shy smiles to everyone around her even before that.

"Finaly, and most sincerely," Berto says, clasping both hands to his heart. "To every one of you, who's come to see this little endevor at its beginning. To the fine people of this grandest of cities, who've been so kind from the very day I arrived. I can't help but show my thanks, and--though Signore Grenaldo nearly choked that I even suggested such a thing--I invite you people here, each and every one, to take a bottle from the chest here," he indicates with a theatrical wave of his hand. "Show it about! Tell your friends! Grenaldo and Tiazza's! And thank you all!"

"Legate." That clicks into place in Pasquale's mind, if the Templar guard wasn't clue enough. "A great honor. I heard of the recent round of appointments after the Convocation of the Faith. The strength of the Pantheon is the strength of us all." Whatever skepticism he might have on the subject of cures, he happily takes a Black Tower.

Pasquale gets Black Tower Cordial from Small Iron-banded Chest.

From his lean he eases to the wall, his arms cross over the broad chest lightly, and he is certain to give Pasquale a respectful nod and Giulio is given a look, a nod as well, and then Delilah of course for her light is gifted a bit of a dark incline, a slight smile. Harlex leans to speak with Bianca again in a murmur.

There's a faint wave of Giulio's hand at Berto's statement. "You are far too kind, Master Tiazza," he says, his lips quirking at the corners. Casually, he glances towards Delilah. "Rejoined the Compact. Our House, if," he glances towards Ilinca, as if making certain he is correct, "left the Compact during the era of the Crownbreaker Wars. In protest at the actions of Darius Thrax." Then, he is offering a nod towards Bianca. "Of course, Legate, I am at your service." He murmurs, softly, his lips quirking at the corners.

Scribble, a Delicate Social Butterfly leaves, following Delilah.

Bianca nodded first in response to Harlex, "Steelsilk? Here I am jealous, Harlex. And thank you, it was just finished." Next to Pasquale her smile turned, gloved hand extending to the man in welcome offer of his own, "Given the company you keep, my lord--" her eyes shifted briefly aside to Giulio with a soft smile before returning to Pasquale, "--I am sure the honor is mine. Though, may I inquire after your name?"

One of Ilinca's brows lifts, though it's difficult to say whether the expression is in response to Berto's grandiose (and superfluous) flattery, or whatever it was that Giulio had said to her. "Maestro, you flatter me as always. I am beginning to suspect that you have been spending far more time with your liege than I realized, and I am now wondering which of you to be blaming for the other," she says with a shake of her head and, eventually, a very soft smile.

When Delilah wanders off somewhere, Tabitha's eye widen. A step foward is taken in the direction her cousin went, but then she stops in her tracks, looking around with conflict in her eyes. It's clear that she's measuring whether or not she should stay or go, but the worried purse of her lips and the lowering of her brow suggests that she's seriously leaning towards the latter. In the end, though, she remains, her arms crossed around her waist as she simply listens to the chatter around her.

Jynx, a falcon arrives, delivering a message to Lailah before departing.

Lailah receives a message and sighs faintly. She looks to her conversation partners, "I'm sorry. I'm afraid my presence is required elsewhere with some urgency." Then to Bianca, "I would like to catch up with you when we both have a moment free."

"Lord Pasquale Malespero," the man replies to Bianca. "The honor of that is up for debate, I'm sure, but thank you." His bottle is hefted, and he turns toward Berto. "I thank you for the drink, Messere. The evening is getting long for me as well, though I shall have to return. For the liquor, at least." A good-night is bid to Lailah, as she makes to depart.

While Bianca is introducing/being introduced; the sellsword looks around and he spies Tabitha in her pale blue silk. Harlex approaches, leaving the Legate on her own, and he offers his scarred and callous hand. "Lieutenant Harlex Valtyr. Crimson Blades." He spies the signet ring. "You're a Whitehawk?"

Berto steps down from his chair, a little unsteadily, and gives a smile toward Ilinca. "Kind words cost nothing, Countess. And it's only flattery if it ain't truth." Pasquale gets a bobbing nod as he chooses his bottle, and he looks over toward Lailah with a grin and a bow. "My thanks, Ladyship, for visiting my establishment. Thirteen blessings on yeh," a second dip of his head to Pasquale, "and to you, Lordship."

Bianca leaned to press a chaste kiss to Lailah's cheek before the woman could escape. "Of course, send me missive and we will arrange a time." Then to Pasquale, "Oh, the Voice of House Malespero and Marquessa Lianne, yes? I will have to pick your brain for details on the beauty of Nilanza when next we cross paths. Until then, may you walk in the light of the Gods, my lord."

A small inclination of his head is made in Lailah's direction, his gaze sweeping towards Pasquale, lips twitching slightly, before looking towards Tabitha and Ilinca. Leaning in, he whispers something else to Ilinca, before turning towards Bianca. "You wished to speak a moment, Legate?" he asks, quietly, one brow lofted in question. "And would it be acceptable if Ilinca joined us? She is helping me a great deal with... matters."

Merril, an Assistant Page leaves, following Lailah.

"Yes," Pasquale replies, something almost akin to warmth creeping into his green eyes when Bianca mentions Lianna and Nilanza. "I'm only just beginning to discover its beauties for myself, so I may be a poor guide. But, yes, I would like to speak on that. I hope that shall be soon. Lord Giulio, Lady Ilinca, ever a pleasure." With that, he makes his exit.

1 Malespero guard leaves, following Pasquale.

On Giulio's address she turned to grant him full attention. "Oh, it is nothing of dire capacity. There was a meeting we had intended to have a substantial bout of time ago. I wished to apologize that it never came to pass and in that apology invite you--" and Bianca turned to bow her head Ilinca, "--and the Countess to dinner at my home in the near future."

Still casting looks around the room, and probably one step away from slinking away, Tabitha is somewhat surprised by Harlex's appearance. She looks up at him with wide eyes, unsure as to what to say for a moment, before she timidly dips into a perfectly executed curtsy. Taking the offered hand with an unscarred and callous one of her own, she gives it a brief but gentle shake before nodding her head. "Um, yes, Tabitha Whitehawk. Very good to meet you, Master Harlex." Catching Giulio's look, she almost winces, but nods in his direction before focusing her attention back to Harlex. After an awkward pause, "Ah, so you know my cousin Delilah?"

Giulio gets Southern Thunder from Small Iron-banded Chest.

Berto grins and bobs his head again to the Count and Countess Corvini, and then he sidles over toward Tabitha and Harlex with another bobbing nod of his head. "Hope you'll both excuse me. Just wanted to thank the both of you for coming. A pleasure, it is."

"Ah, indeed," Giulio says, with an inclination of his head in Bianca's direction. "It has been some time, and I must admit to being somewhat forgetful as to the particulars of the meeting. I imagine, given the breadth and scope of things it is likely far, far out of date. But, perhaps not." He chuckles a little, before looking towards Berto. "Mmm, some Southern Thunder, methinks," the man ponders, after a long moment. He grins towards Berto, head inclining in the man's direction. As he speaks, Marius goes and claims a jug, drawing a tin cup from his satchel and pouring some for his lord.

Ilinca looks back to the conversations going on around her. Perhaps it was at something Giulio had said, her name having been mentioned after all, or perhaps she was slowly learning to respond simply to the title she bears. Either way, green eyes land on Bianca, to whom she offers a particularly reverential curtsy. "It is a gracious invitation. I would be honored."

Harlex has all the characteristics of a sellsword--the leanness, the suntouched skin, and the set changelessness that came from years of silence and solitude. But it was not these things which caught attention, that often. It's always his gaze, the strained weariness, piercing wistfulness, and so forth. Bright, radiant. Cold. He is delicate with her hand, there's strength to it that's evident. Berto's appearance earns a subdued half-grin and a nod. "Seems a fine place," he tells the brewmaster. But back to Tabitha he adds, "I do, she's a sharp one, that Delilah. What about you, Lady Tabitha?"

Ilinca's curtsy was met with a bow of the Legate's head and Bianca spoke toward the leadership of House Corvini in tangent. "I look forward to it and will send a missive within the coming week to narrow down a date and time. If you will both excuse me, I'd like to pay my respects to the shopkeep and select one of those samples he mentioned before I miss my opportunity." Her tone was warm, humor edging her gentle smile.

Hands going back to fold at her waist once more, Tabitha offers a small smile to Harlex, a bit nervous but genuine nonetheless. The same expression is directed to Berto when he sidles over, and she dips into another of those light flawless curtsies, a small dip in of one heel. "Thank you too," she says in her quiet voice, an apologetic wince following. "I arrived rather late, though, I fear. But it is lovely here." A little peek at the gentle clutter is given, then she looks back to the mercenary. "Oh yes, she's ever so clever. I'm in awe of her, really." She frowns a little at the question, however. "I... are you asking if I'm sharp? If that's what you mean, then no. Not like Lilah, anyway."

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Bianca before departing.

"Of course, Legate," Giulio says, his head tilting in Bianca's direction. There's something of a smile on the man's lips as he ponders something, before nodding to Ilinca. Casually, he leans in to whisper something to her. There's a glance towards Tabitha and Harlex, and his smile grows perhaps a mite more wry.

Bianca moved to the chest of waiting liquid treats, speaking toward Berto. "You are the brewer, sir? Or have I misunderstood?" She lifted each bottle, inspecting them carefully before selecting the odd brown one.

Bianca gets Amaretto Joy from Small Iron-banded Chest.

Harlex gets Black Tower Cordial from Small Iron-banded Chest.

"The former," Ilinca answers softly, "I think."

He comes to lean though somehow still manages to seem tall. The posture of a man use to horseback perhaps. Or just another rugged and contemptuous commoner trait. His hands resting on the wide buckle of the sword belt. Harlex offers a subdued smile with his attention on Tabitha. "Well, no one has ever accused me of bein' sharp either, truth be told." He gives a sharp-eyed wink, quick as they come. That accent is nothing short of rural, seasoned on the farmsteads of the Crownlands. "Suppose I ought to fetch a drink, what I came for anyway. Would you join me?" He gestures to the samplings of liquor.

With a tilt of his head, Giulio offers a smile to those present. "Please do forgive, but there are many matters for the Countess and I to attend to. Recent affairs being what they are." He glances towards Berto. "Your showmanshi and wares are always exquisite, master Tiazza." There's a flash of a smile towards the man. "Legate, a pleasure." He glances towards Tabitha. "Forgive the discourtesy of a bare greeting, Lady Whitehawk, but, there are matters to attend to. "Master Valtyr, lovely as always." And, with that, he ghosts off.

"I am, it's true," Berto says to Bianca with a wavering dip of his head. "And have I heard right that you're Legate Bianca? Beyond an honor, Your... Legateship, have you in my humble establishment. Hope only it's to your liking."

Bianca nodded to Ilinca and Berto both as her question was answered, glancing down to inspect the bottle in her gloved hands. "I am indeed and I hope to see your participation in the next festival of Mangata we hold here in Arx. It would be nice to have a bit of new competition enter the fold between the brewers and vintners."

Another smile is turned towards Berto and Bianca, giving the latter yet another curtsy, though not interrupting the conversation at hand. A faint frown follows, one of concern at the looks and whispers that come from Guilio and Ilinca before the former leaves. Then, at Harlex, she laughs lightly but somewhat tentatively like she's afraid of causing offense. She nods lightly though, and in an accent that's pure well-bred Crownlands in slant, she replies, "Alright, yes, please." She looks around for the alcohol, eyebrows uplifted for a moment.

Ilinca - having been so excused with her husband's goodbyes - offers a curtsy to those who remain, with a small smile to each. "My heartiest congratulations again, Maestro Tiazza." And with that, she departs.

1 House Corvini Guard, Claudia leave, following Ilinca.

Harlex approaches the iron chest and examines the contents. He seems fascinated most by the Black Tower, which he loosens from the others. It doesn't take him long (the seasoned alcoholic) to find cups and pours freely for the two of them. "I would say, aside fightin', this is my third favorite pastime." It already produces a fine mix of citrus and anise, it's also remarkably clear. Rum, he asserts. Then says, "Hope you don't mind rum. Whisky man myself, but it does the trick. That's all that counts." Tabitha is offered her cup. "Let it turn," he toasts.

Tabitha gets Heart's Caress from Small Iron-banded Chest.

"Legate," Berto says with another dipping bow, "I'm honored thirteen times over you'd ask such a thing. I'll make a point of it, and don't you doubt it. Not an instant!" He claps his hands together again with another broad smile. "Thank you so much for coming--all of you--thirteen blessings on your lot."

Tabitha takes the rum, lifting it in a toast in kind with a polite smile. She doesn't so much as flinch when she takes the first small sip. Probably common knowledge that she and her cousin were Merciers before Whitehawks, and that the Merciers are wine merchants. Could be that they know how to hold their drink! Whatever the case, though, she makes a little head-tilted expression of appreciation, clearly pleased at the taste, before lifting her glass at Berto as if to say, 'nice work!' But then attention is turned back to Halrx, somewhat less warily now, maybe because she's got a drink on her. Then she ventures, "What's the second favourite pasttime? If you don't mind me asking."

"And in turn may the Gods smile upon your work and Gild's grace loosen the purses of your clientele." Bianca grinned to the brewer, bowing her head to him before turning to approach Tabitha and Harlex.

Harlex is about to take his drink when he finds himself fixated on her and the ease of taking in the rum. He smiles a little wryly and knocks his back. He can hold his drink because he has a /problem/ and the very peak of human stamina, as an aside. The sellsword nods to Berto. "Damn fine." And then looks back to Tabitha. He clears his throat and he leans to say something quietly.

Berto places his hand over his heart and closes his eyes at the praise, before he takes the chest of liquors and shuffles toward the back.