Under Lord Asriel Darkwater's watch, the table for House Darkwater's dinner is set precisely early enough so as to be readied at the half-hour and the nobleman himself is settled into a seat while the various members of the staff who keep the Reach in order are clear off toward the outskirts of the room to wait until they can be of service again. Asriel is dressed for the manner of dining that involves a lot of non-family members sitting to eat as well, from the black of his tailored trousers to the dark blue silks of his buttoned shirt and the black-on-black brocaded waistcoat that brings it all together. Something has even been done with his hair, what is quite capable of being a wild mess under the right conditions having been tamed backwards with a diligent brushing. To begin? A glass of darkly spiced rum swirls around in the bottom of the glass he's holding while his brown-black eyes keep vigil over the arrivals.

Seryna, a charming Lycene handmaiden, 6 Grimhall House Guards arrive, following Vanora.

5 Grimhall House Guards, Gustav, a gruff Islander advisor arrive, following Valdemar.

"Please tell me there will not be live octopi crawling out of buckets." Alarissa chimes in when she makes her way in, divested of cloak and gloves and left in just sheer blushing seasilk and bejeweled octopi. There's her handmaid with her, a bottle of something in the womans hands for the host this night.


Ilmia is a rather statuesque figure and hard to miss with the color of her hair matched with her height. She'd decided that she'd make an appearance at the dinner since it was open to friends and others. The Scholar fell into the 'other' category. She's dressed in well tailored brocade and her cloak is draped over her arm and a bottle of what looks like rum. "I hope that old acquaintances showing up doesn't rock the boat too much." she offers with a brillaint smile.


Aethan did not come as impeccably dressed as Asriel is, but at least he's presentable, which is nice. And he //is// accompanied by Evonleigh, so really it doesn't matter what he looks like because no one's looking at him. So it works out. He's saying something to her as they come in, only the last of which is audible as they come in. "...off the side of the ship," he says. "But hopefully that won't happen this time." What a pleasant thought. When he sees Alarissa, she having entered just before them, he inclines his head to her in a deep nod -- not quite a bow, but similar. "Your Highness," he says, before he turns to Asriel. "Lord Asriel, thank you for hosting."

Arriving fashionably on time for a change is the Warlord of Thrax, Prince Galen himself! Before he actually makes way into the room, however, someone may hear him whistling a tune that sounds oddly like so, 'La la la-la la la'.
The usual swagger is about the man's steps despite the fact that he is not exactly dressed for dinner, in fact, he wears his leather armor topped off with that fierce looking cloak. Outside of his clothing however, his moustache is pristine as ever and his hair is pulled back neatly and tied. "My sincerest apologies for my appearance Lord Asriel," Galen says with stormy eyes searching the man apologetically, "I received notice late and came straight from a meeting over joint naval tactics."
Galen takes a slow moment to then allow his gaze to drift about the room taking in the sights and the work put into preparing such an event. Briefly pursed lips elicit a short whistle of appreciation, "Well done," he adds cheerfully before looking to Alarissa and dipping his head, "If there are, I shall take care of them for you my dearest cousin-in-law." a playful grin is also lobbed in her direction, and that grin is accompanied by a friendly wink.

Although Evander might arrive early, it takes some time for him to reach the ward room. Three times he pauses on the way up, and by the time he reaches the top there's a somewhat unsteady cast to him that makes his assistant, Jaq, put a hand to his elbow for a moment. With a brief shake of his head, Evander moves inside, gaze flickering about. There's familiar figures, but he takes a moment to gather his breath.

The Duke and Duchess of Grimhall arrive together, him in the blues and greens of his House, and she in black tulle with delicate embroidery. "Good evening. We wanted to at least stop by and say hello for a little while, and to thank you for hosting. It's been a long time since I've been up here." Vanora remarks to Asriel, her voice friendly and kind. She curtsies to Alarissa with a murmured, "Your Highness" and then lets Valdemar lead them to greet others and perhaps find drinks.

Not yet seated, Wren instead stands a lone vigil by the windows looking out at the snowy winterscape that passes for the city of Arx. "The countess was not pulling any punches when she mentioned to me the -view-. It's absolutely breathtaking," the merchant woman says, awestruck. As the reflections ripple and change in the glass with the comings and goings of the servants, and soon fresh arrivals, she turns away from the city to instead the people who fill the Ward Room with warmth. "Your guests are arriving," she says to Asriel cheerfully before she gives a half-bow to those of noble stature who start to arrive. Wren is dressed considerably plain in comparison to her lordly patron, the swish of her grayish green dress definitely not silk but that thick wool is woven well, and her auburn hair has been left loose, tumbling to her waist in waves.

"If anybody does, well, you know I have terrible luck, so it would most likely be me," Evonleigh says to Aethan, a smirk curving her lips, before turning her stormy-blue gaze on the rest of the guests. She drops graceful curtsies for those of royal blood and high rank, and a warm smile and nod for the rest. "Good evening, thank you for having us," she says to Lord Asriel. She grins over at Wren for the helpful advice to their host.

Valdemar bows to Alarissa as well, greeting her politely, "Good evening, your Highness." A brief smile then appears on his face when he notices that the Warlord is here. "Prince Galen, wonderful to see you as well, of course," he greets him, then inclines his head to Asriel too. Leading his wife along, he then turns his attention to Aethan and the woman on his arm, "Lord Kennex, it has been some time. And I am afraid I have not met your companion before."

As people arrive, they're greeted. Not only are staff on-hand to take coats and gloves and whatever else might be left to them, but Asriel's attention moves from guest to guest starting with Alarissa, "Fear not, Princess Alarissa. We killed the octopi before serving them. Life can be hard enough without having to fight with your food." Ilmia's presence at the dinner brings a smile to the Darkwater noble and her spoken hopes are met with "I would say anyone who can make an entrance with boat humor is welcome to Darkwater dinner, old acquaintance or not. It has been a time, Lady Ilmia. Please, dine with us!" There are more faces, people unmet but recognized, "Duchess Vanora, I presume! And Duke Valdemar, who is wonderfully recognizable! I'm glad you could both find the time to stop in. Time is at a premium, these days. Isn't it?" He waves down Aethan and Evonleigh both, greeting with a small grin that is for both of them. "Lord Aethan, Lady Evonleigh! It was my pleasure to host. Thank for you coming to help assure this food is taken care of! I would have been embarrassed otherwise."

"Finally, someone who gets it Lord Asriel. Praise be to the gods." The Princess Consort of Maelstrom smiles wide, dipping her head in greeting to him and then to others who offers up respects. "A gift from his Grace who apologizes that he cannot be here, he is occupied by duty but sends his finest rum for your hospitality." But she deosn't want to keep him busy, there's other guests and so Alarissa join Wren by the window, looking out. "There are a few points in the ward where the view is stunning. The higher up you go though, the better."

It's the greetings of others that allow Evander to identify unfamiliar figures and place them. The Duke and Duchess earn a bow from the Kennex Lord, "A pleasure to see you again, Duke Valdemar. Duchess Vanora," is murmured towards them. A second bow is afforded the Thraxian royalty, "Princess Alarissa, Prince Galen," with a quiet nod to each. Aethan is given a tight, brief smile, but it is towards Asriel that Evander heads, next. "Lord Asriel?" there's an inflection there, a little unsure. "Lord Evander Kennex. Thank you for the invitation. Will the Countess be joining us tonight?"

Aethan sees Evander and the greeting, and he lifts a hand to his cousin to return it with another nod, before a little huff of amusement escapes him at Evonleigh's reply. "You'll be below deck, anyway," he points out, "so I think you'll be fine." Valdemar and Vanora's arrival has him turning that way, though, and he replies, "Duke Grimhall. It has -- good to see you both. This is Lady Evonleigh Whitehawk. Lady Evonleigh, Duke and Duchess Grimhall." Galen is given a nod when the prince arrives, after which he turns back to Asriel. "I'll show up for food," he says, and though it's difficult to tell, it //might// be a joke. He doesn't really smile, but there's the idea of it somewhere. Wren, too, gets a wave of greeting.

"Duke, Duchess!" Galen exclaims with a deep dip of his head toward the pair, "Lovely to see the both of you this evening." a lingering glance and a bright smile that reaches up to the man's eyes are given to everyone else arriving, "I just want to take a moment if I may," he looks toward Asriel and gestures a hand toward the man.
"This man who has seen fight to take me as his Patron can teach you a great many things. I applaud the efforts he and Darkwater have taken in preparing this event for us tonight." his lips turn up at the corners and the slightest hint of mischief sparkles behind those eyes as he holds his gaze upon Asriel.
"My charm is naught compared to his wit, even the warstache recognizes his talents!" this is said with a laugh and a storking of his moustache, "So let us eat, drink, and be merry and honor Lord Asriel and Darkwater with our joy this evening!" bringing his hands up beside his head he claps three loud claps and seemingly from nowhere a 10 piece wind and string orchestra shimmies out and begins to play for the gathering crowd.

Ilmia gives a smile and a curtsey to Asriel, "I was hoping no one groaned at me for that." she smiles as she rises. "It's good to see you and I'm glad I'm here in Arx when you arrived." she grins. She then hands him the bottle of rum, "From the Leary's." she tells him. Then she gives a look around, noting faces as she does. She didn't know a lot of people. "Good evening." she offers to others with a radiant smile.

"My lord, my lady," Wren says at the sight of Aethan and Evonleigh. "It is good to see you both. Plenty of food to be had, so please eat up my Lord Asriel's generosity of spirit. It comes but once or twice a year before he tucks it away and forgets about it." There was a wink somewhere to go with all of those words but Alarissa moving to stand near the window gets Wren to bow at the waist again, her hair slipping off her shoulder. "Highness." As she rises from that bow, she smiles at the princess-consort and says, "It makes the city look unlike anything I've seen before. And the snow just enhancing the beauty of it, makes it appear so untouched, pure in a way. As if nothing could ever spoil it." The reflections caught in the glass do little to mar that view, shifting and dancing with the lights in the room as people gather.

"You must be Lord Asriel. How lovely to meet you, this is a very impressive spread. I should consult you when I am planning parties, which I keep meaning to do. There's just..." Never any time. Vanora notices Aethan and offers a gentle smile. "Lord Kennex, it has been some time. You look very well. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Whitehawk." She quiets for Galen's...speech...grinning at the Warlord.

"Lord Evander, it is good to see you again as well. It was a pleasure speaking with you at the banquet. I believe you might know my wife as well, Duchess Vanora?" Valdemar greets another Kennex when he approaches, before looking to Asriel and saying, "Time /is/ scarce, it is true, but this is not so far from our longhouse." As Aethan goes on to provide introductions for his companion, the Duke smiles slightly to her. "Lady Whitehawk, I am glad to meet you," he tells her as he inclines his head slightly toward her. Looking toward Galen as he speaks to them and then goes on to make his speech, he goes on to chuckle a bit at the appearance of the musicians.

"So long as it is in fact not moving, I'm sure we will be able to help," Evonleigh says brightly to Asriel, a grin for Alarissa, and then she nods to those she's being introduced to, offering her hand and dipping her head in respect to Vanora and Valdemar. "A pleasure to meet you both. Of course I've heard much about you, but I haven't had the honor," she says warmly. A nod is given to Evander as well. "Lord Evander, it's good to see you again," she says to the other Kennex man in the room, before she too quiets to listen to Galen's words, a chuckle as the musicians come in. "Well, I'm glad I didn't wear my Bard's pin, or maybe I would have to play for my supper," she says lightly -- not that she's the most musical member of the College at all.

"The view is equally as stunning at the height of summer, the greenery. Right now it is a sea of white and grey's and the harbor beyond. But in the summer, the green contrasted with the blues of the sky, the horizon. And at sunset. Princess Alarissa, you are?" Alarissa looks away from the window to the room, regarding those who had entered, looking galen over head to toe. "No antlers Prince Galen? I am disappointed."

Lord Asriel remarks to Alarissa before she finds her way over to the windows, "I understand well the importance of leadership. We shall draw his Grace in another time! Enjoy yourself, please." He moves on to another after, "Lord Evander Kennex, a pleasure. I am given to believe by your family that you're a fine addition to any dinner. I hope your appetite is as healthy as Lord Aethan's is!" the greeting sincerely pleased by the man's presence but there is other conversation to cut back into. "I'm afraid the impressive spread is the work of the chef I brought with me from Darkwater Watch, Duchess Vanora. I just used my outdoor voice until everything looked nice enough. My assistant Wren Lavere was invaluable as well." The Darkwater nobleman does look a touch.. surprised when Prince Galen summons forth musicians, but it is taken in stride by the socialite, "Prince Galen, music? What a welcome turn of events. I would have expected just your charm to be your offered gift." He raises his glass of darkly spiced rum in a toast, and drinks of it. A whole bottle of the stuff is being handed to him by Ilmia and that garners more of his immediate attention, "I was thrilled to hear that you were in Arx as well, Lady Ilmia. Though it has been some time since our business dealings and I am sometimes terrible with names, I never forget a person's taste in books. House Darkwater is pleased to have you here. Perhaps I can grace House Leary's halls sometime soon?"

"Not quite as healthy as," Evander replies to Asriel with a brief huff of amusement. "But thank you all the same, my lord." When 'Lord Kennex' is thrown around, Evander, by habit, half turns, before realizing Aethan's being addressed instead of himself. With a tiny smile, he rests fingers on the back of one of the dining chairs. "I haven't had the pleasure, my lord," he answers Valdemar, giving a bow to Vanora. "I don't travel much since winter set in." Evonleigh earns a brief, pleased smile, as if happy to be remembered. "Lady Evonleigh. You as well. I'm afraid I missed the last battle held at the Hart. I think there's one tonight, but I'm a fan of more peacable ways to pass the evening."

3 Thrax Guards, 2 Thrax Elite Guards, Teonia Redreef, Aryka Wyrmfang, Marquessa Pudding, a doughy dog arrive, following Sorrel.

Ilmia gives a smile and there is a dip of her head to Wren, "Your hair is lovely." she tells her. She wasn't being weird, she just liked seeing other red heads. Then there's a look about the others, a note taken as people's names are given and a soft smile. Then Asriel addresses her and there's a nod of her head, "I'm sure that would be a wonderful change of scenery for you, Lord Asriel. We'd love to host you at House Leary sometime. And I thank you for being so welcoming this evening." she tells him. "Everyone really." she smiles to others that are close.

Sorrel is late. She's sure it's fashionable. She sweeps in with a swirl of umbra, a pretty smile on her lips as she glances around at those assembled. She sidles around, seeking out her husband.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Aethan says of Vanora's words, before he looks over at Evonleigh at her last words. "You shouldn't have reminded everyone," he says. "Now you may have to." And that statement sounds even more serious than the maybe-joke from before. He does lead her to a seat at the table, since they will, of course, be eating, though he does not take a glass himself. He falls quiet then, mostly letting the conversation move over him and listening instead of talking, though he does lean over to murmur something to his companion more quietly.

All ears for Alarissa's description of the greenery, she nods afterward. "I can't wait to see the seasons change from one to the next, from the grays of winter to the warmth of spring, and then the heat of summer." She stops prattling onward to glance back toward the entryway, watching a few more entries before she smiles to the princess again. "Wren, highness. Wren Lavere, merchant and opportunist at your service," is the introduction as Wren bows once more just at the waist, a hand shifting to toss a length of that auburn hair over her shoulder. "And as Lord Asriel says, his assistant. Quite invaluable as someone must remind the Darkwater lord of which is the proper bellowing voice for dinner and which one is used outdoors." The introduction made and her hair somewhat tamed, Wren continues, "But you do not need any introduction at all, highness. It is my absolute delight and pleasure to make your acquaintance." A comment catches her then, so she turns toward Ilmia and warms another smile for her. "Is it? It feels like a nest of rats most days," she laughs, a jest no doubt but that doesn't stop Wren from eyeing her hair as she says, "Yours is quite lovely too. I love the color."

"As am I," Evonleigh tells Evander with a smile. "I don't think I made the last one, myself. Honestly, I'm not very fond of watching the sparring, I confess, but go once in a while to meet new faces and learn something by watching since I can't be bothered to take more than a couple of lessons in anything involving warfare or athletics." Her eyes sparkle a little with amusement as she looks at Aethan. "Perhaps it's because I asked Lord Ian for the last lesson." She's found a glass of something to sip from as Aethan draws her to the table to sit. "If that's the case, it would be playing the goblet by rubbing my finger along the rim, for that is the only instrument I know how to play,' she says teasingly.

Galen moves with an ease through the crowd, smiling here, nodding there, and otherwise making his war toward Asriel so that he can clasp the man on the shoulder and lean to whisper something to him. A beat, and then he is pulling himself away to languidly procure a glass of rum, then it is back to Alarissa with a playful smile. "Princess, I thought it wise to avoid such antlers this evening least I may poke out someone's eye...And it is all fun and games until someone looses an eye!" he laughs easy and bold with a hand coming to rest on his chest while the other lifts his rum to his lips.
"My mistake Lord Asriel, I thought you specifically said," he pauses to make air quotes, at least as good of air quotes as he can with one hand holding a glass of rum, "Do what you do best Galen." a look is then slowly cast out over the room, "So...Tada! When should I beckon the flame dancers?" he curiously asks the Darkwater Lord, a serious expression and a dark brow lifted. The appearance of his wife breaks his attention from everyone for the moment and to her his brightest smile yet is given, "Love! Come, join us and let us enjoy the fruits of Darkwaters labor!" a hand is extended to her to draw her in close for a brief kiss.

Umbra is highly fashionable, and dropping in late as well, at least Vanora's fond and approving glance at Sorrel might indicate. Antlers...maybe not so much. "Princess Sorrel. How lovely to see you, darling." She still greets like a Lycene, an air kiss to each cheek. "I've actually been wanting to catch up with you and talk, but it isn't really dinner conversation." She touches Valdemar's hand to indicate a desire to sit near the Warlord and his Princess. "Tell us, how have you been?"

Sorrel swirls into Galen's arms for a fond kiss that lingers just a little too long, and she gives her husband a thoughtful look. "You're behaving yourself, aren't you, darling?" she murmurs, then turns to greet Vanora, holding Galen's hand at her waist. "I've been well. I got distracted at a birthday party. One of my dear friends had a birthday," she explains brightly, then turns slightly to study the older man that Galen is speaking with. "Lord Asriel?" she inquires with a curling smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, of course. I am Princess Sorrel Thrax, mother of the Warlord's children."

"We shall have to speak, of markets and such. But not this evening. This evening is for meeting new people. Perhaps you might introduce?" The lamenting of it feeling like a rats nest gets a grimace. "Much how I felt on pilgrimage. I had to learn to tend to my own hair and I am fearful that more than a few girls sat patiently while I left theirs likely in much the same state."

Valdemar nods when his wife indicates that she would like to sit near Galen and Sorrel, and he begins to look for a seat close to the pair. He pulls out a chair for Vanora first, before taking a seat himself beside her. "I am glad you were able to make it, Princess Sorrel. Thank you for the conversation the other night," he tells the new arrival, before looking at the table to see what sort of food has been laid out.

Ilmia gives a smile to Wren, "When I traveled through the North the wind would whip mine so much that I debated cutting it all off. One of my guards convinced me that I'd look too much like a Northern boy with how tall I am. So I didn't." she muses. "And the heat in the summer sometimes makes me second guess that decision." she adds with an amused glint in her eyes. Then she gives a bow to Alarissa, "Your Highness. I'm Lady Ilmia Leary, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." she states to her with a smile. "I heard that the Pilgrimage went well." she adds.

A brief surprise passes and disappears across Evander's features as he listens intently to Evonleigh. "I hadn't thought of it as such, my lady, but that is an excellent way to frame it. Though I," with a wry smile, "Doubt I will ever learn such, perhaps watching is just as useful in a way." Shifting his shoulders, he murmurs to Aethan, "Did you hear Jan is back? It's good to... have her here."

The staff of the Reach keep in the business of pouring drinks and attending any other needs of House Darkwater's dinner guests, while Lord Asriel continues on in conversation enough to keep him from touching his food. "We will make a dinner of it then, Lady Ilmia. A second dinner, that is. A query, what are you reading these days?" His question comes in a bit of a hush as if it were something scandalous and while he listens for the answer he cuts into more of the attention that is on him. "Prince Galen, I did tell you to do what you do best. Let's not tell High Lord Victus that you brought musicians instead of soldiers. The implications!" His jab is given with a humor-laced tone of voice. His brown-black eyes meet where Evonleigh is at, not missing her mentioning of music and he calls over to her, "I wouldn't dream of stopping you from playing, Lady Evonleigh, but it isn't necessary to partake. I would starve otherwise. I play with numbers and words better than strings and hol-.. winds? Windwoods". He does arrive at the mostly right word eventually. Princess Sorrel's greeting of him is hardly missed either. "Princess Sorrel. I am charmed to finally meet you. Prince Galen has spoken highly of you several times. Perhaps a dozen? And we only had the one conversation! He is still smitten with you. Your luck is boundless."

"Possibly," Aethan concedes after Evonleigh's observation about his brother, as he settles into his chair, reaching for a glass of water. Evander's murmur has him leaning a little bit that way, though, and his eyebrows raise as he turns again in response to his cousin. "Is she?" he asks, and now it's his turn for a brief smile, though it seems genuine for all its brevity. "I hadn't," he says, "but I'm glad she's back. Hopefully Arx'll keep her a little longer this time."

"If there is anything I enjoy speaking on it is markets and commerce, the very lifeblood of a city," Wren says. "It would be a great honor to speak with you about such things at another time." Away from the wintery landscape of Arx, she turns, smiling at Ilmia. "It is a trial, long and lustrous hair, but when I think about cutting my own, I also think about how much I'd miss it and the things I can do with it long." She leans somewhat closer for a moment, adding in conspiratory tones, "Ask me again come the height of summer." Wren flashes a toothy grin as she straightens back up. "Lady Ilmia, Princess Alarissa, Wren," she says, gesturing to each of them in turn. "Now that we are good friends shall we find something to eat and drink and mingle some more? I fear I don't remember everyone's faces, or their names, for it has been -years- since my last return to Arx."

Galen looks to Vanora and nods, "Please do sit near us! It has been too long since the four of us have had the chance to chat without important matters ruling the conversation," he sips his rum, "It will be nice to just socialize! How are the kids?" there is that bright Galen smile(tm) flaring back up. "Lord Asriel," the Warlord starts, he was about to take a seat, but not now! "I believe in a refined force of special operatives, why these musicians," a hand is carefully waves toward the orchestra, "Are the finest dual purpose soldiers I could train!" a stormy wink is tossed at Asriel before he finally does lower himself gracefully into his seat while lifting his rum toward the man. "Behaving myself?" He says softly to Sorrel, "Of course I am, I even opted to not wear the antlers, and see the nice things Lord Asriel has to say? He is so very correct."

"Oh, you're welcome, Duke Valdemar. I felt that you needed to hear Countess Carita's information so that we could start putting it all together," Sorrel says softly to Valdemar, even as she leans into Galen and looks up at him, licking her lips. "It's good to hear that you've been very good. I appreciate that." She winks playfully at Asriel, and she is a very pretty woman.

Galen is overheard praising Asriel: For throwing a wonderful dinner party!

Ilmia gives a smile to Asriel, "A dinner would be lovely, I know that the Marquis and others would be happy to have another of scholarly stature around." she comments to him. "Though as to what I'm reading these days is mainly ghosts, which I know is a bit odd, but working on a project." she tells him in a quiet tone. Then she's looking back to Wren, "I will agree with you on how much we'd probably miss it." she grins to that. "Of course, eating and mingling would be lovely, Mistress Wren." she tells her.

Evander's words make Evonleigh tilt her head in concession. "I don't think I've learned much either, to be honest, but there's always the hope, isn't there?" she says. "But I listen to the others say what others did wrong or right, and I'm sure that'll help should I ever actually armor up and spar." Asriel's words draw her eyes next and she laughs. "Oh, I don't. Play that is. I'm an actress more than a musician, and the only instrument I have is my voice, though it could never compete with the likes of her highness there," a nod for Sorrel. "I did join the Bard's College, but more as sort of an honorary member, I confess. I've been training my singing a little since the last play Niklas put on, so I've improved. A little. I hope. My own play has no singing, so some of you might be grateful for that." She grins at Aethan, perhaps meaning the Kennex admiral.

"Yes, it has been far too long, Prince Galen. It seems like there is always something pressing to speak of," Valdemar agrees with him, before reaching for a glass of rum to have a sip. He then turns to Sorrel and adds, "Not to make the conversation tonight /too/ serious, but we will be getting together with the rest of our family soon to try to work through it and see what we can do about it, and what assistance we might need. But it did help me to get my bearings, at least." With this, he reaches for one of the eel skewers as well, deciding to start with them and some oysters to go along with his drink.

"I don't mind singing," Aethan says at Evonleigh's words, as though he feels that this is high praise. Of course, maybe it is from him. "But Nik's did have quite a bit of it." He takes a ship from his glass, and when he sets it down he continues, "I did prefer the speaking, so I'm sure I'll like yours." Not that he's a connoisseur of singing, plays, or anything of that sort whatsoever.

"The boys are well." Vanora answers Galen about their children. "Harry turns one in a few months, and you know the twins are nearly three." She doesn't mention her eldest, or at least not before something said farther down the table captures her interest. "Did you say you've been reading about ghosts?" She asks Ilmia. "That's a rather unique subject isn't it?" She glances back to Valdemar as he discusses plans with Sorrel, but doesn't speak on them. "What looks delicious here?" She wonders.

In sight of Princess Sorrel's wink, Asriel Darkwater's smile deepens and he assures her, "Prince Galen -has- been on his finest behavior. Curious, isn't it?" and then he is listening to Ilmia's response to his question. The answer causes him to loft his dark brows by just a hair, but perceptibly enough, "Ghosts, Lady Ilmia? Very frightening reading material, you must be quite brave. You're not aware, but my assistant Wren there has a ghost story of two I bet she could be convinced to part with." When the topic catches another's attention, the Darkwater lord can't help but ask, "Do -you- have tales of ghosts, Duchess Vanora? A winter's night over a cozy dinner almost seems the perfect time for them, doesn't it?"

"I'm not sure of that. She still had the... aroma of the sea on her when she got in." Evander answers Aethan, with a fleeting smile. "The Lady Olivia had plenty of tales for her, so maybe she will." He doesn't sound hopeful, but then he doesn't sound not either. He settles into a seat, looking grateful to be off his feet, sticking to tea rather than partaking of the more generous wine. The mention of ghosts earns a furrow of brow, and he glances down towards Ilmia, unknowingly adding to the many curious looks her way.

Honey Snuggle, a Velenosian Angora cat, 4 Thrax Guards, Maxene, the steadfast ladies maid, Elegance, a Velenosian Greyhound, Pellinor leave, following Alarissa.

"Ghosts? Now there is a fascinating subject," Wren says to Ilmia, pausing only to bow again to Alarissa as the princess moves to tend to some other matter. An interruption which gives that assistant a moment to shoot a look to her patron at his comment but there comes to denial as she says to Ilmia, "He's right I do know a few interesting stories about ghosts, but a lot of them tend to be about shipwrecks and haunted crews. And nasty business about curses, if you believe that sort of thing." It's a slow process, but Wren gradually shifts until she can start herding Ilmia gently toward food and drink, and other people. "Unfortunately, most of the stories are just that, stories. Little truth to be wriggled free but I'd never turn someone away who was curious."

"All stories are just stories but to the person they happened to, I think," says Evonleigh thoughtfully. "I've strange things happen to me that I wouldn't have thought possible just a year or two ago, though not ghosts precisely. Ships do seem a proper setting for ghosts though -- there's something melancholy about them, at least when you see them far out on the water, too far away to see their crew or the lives aboard, I think. Like they're floating around alone, rather than practically a hamlet unto themselves," she muses.

Ilmia gives a smile to Asriel, "I wouldn't say very brave, just a bit odd." she chuckles at that. Then she's giving a nod to Wren, "Yes, I thought it would be a neat thing, to maybe write a book on people's experiences and things of that nature." she tells her in a quiet tone. She is easily herded towards food and other people. "I'd still like to hear the stories though, if you'd care to share sometime." she smiles to Wren. Then the Scholar looks to Evonleigh and there's a smile to her, "Exactly." she agrees as she settles into a seat.

"Mmm, I have grisly tales we were told as children in the Lyceum, though I don't know that they had ghosts necessarily. I am intrigued by this imagery of ghost ships though, is that a common part of old stories from the Isles? They do sound melancholy. Like those old sea shanties, or songs about family members at cliffs waiting for their loved ones to return from sea. Sad, but pretty too." Vanora muses, before selecting something to eat and a glass of wine.

Galen smiles softly toward Sorrel, "Dignity has nothing to do with it, more extravagance." he chucklesand tilts his glass toward his wife. "Time flies Duchess, it seems like only yesterday Kyrios was born," a deep inhale is followed by a heavy sigh, "We shall have to get the kids together and let them play sometime soon."
One of Galen's guards slides up to the table and leans to whisper something in his ear, he whispers back, but not too quietly, "They forgot the snakes? Alright, well...Let it be with what they have." a nod is given from his guard who then departs.

The music suddenly stops and the doors are drawn open, the sound of a beating deep rhythm begins thump, thump, thumping. Remember those flame dancers? Galen wasn't joking! Into the room first comes two broad shouldered men with drums who are timed perfectly. Then, two more men come in dressed in tribal cloths and each carrying a long pole with flaming orbs on each side. They start slow, spinning and twirling with nothing fancy. The beating of the drums speeds up, so too does their performance, it picks up from casual twirls to outright furious movement, they spin toward one another and /at/ one another evading with a mix of dance and acrobatics. The string section of the orchestra begins playing once more.

"See, not so bad right?" Galen nudges Sorrel, "The gift of entertainment," a hand slides to drape around Sorrel. "Duke," he looks toward Valdemar, "When you have those meetings, might you relay any additional information you may find to me?"

"I used to ask the sailors to tell me stories when they came back into the harbor, since I couldn't travel until recently," Evander muses. "There was one -- he was a lot older, retired, I think -- who used to say he would see a ship with black outlines and a black flag. He swore up and down he saw great reaver, Baron Donris Ashcrest at the helm." He clears his throat briefly, his voice rough as he adds, "But he'd been drinking a lot, so..." his words trail off as /flame dancers/ come in. His eyes are briefly wide, like he's never seen anything like this before. He undoubtedly hasn't.

"The image of a ship with its tattered and torn sails just skimming through the fog of night beneath a blanket of washed out stars, or gathering storm clouds is something that invokes chills," Wren says as her tone drops, softens into something nearly haunted. "Glimpses caught through that fog of figures aboard that ship, toiling away as a real crew would. Perhaps at first, you don't notice the rest of the ship, the holes in the sides like gaping wounds. The cutting sight of a figurehead that is at once beautiful and horrific." Her gray-blue eyes cut from Ilmia to Evonleigh, then to Vanora and finally to Asriel before a smile warms her right back up. "Stories worth writing down and sharing. I've heard a few ghostly ship stories from the Lyceum. Murderous captains abyss-bent on retribution."

Nodding when Galen suggests that they get their children together to play soon, Valdemar's gaze is soon drawn away from the table when the fire dancers come into the room. He watches them for a time, appreciating the skill with which they perform their art until the Prince's words call his focus back to those at the table with him. "Of course, if we uncover anything new at the meeting. More likely, new revelations will come afterward, as a result of the work that people begin after it. But either way, if we do come across anything new, I will pass it along," the Duke assures the Warlord between bites of eel, before listening curiously to the talk of ghost ship tales from the Lyceum.

Aethan starts to say something to Evonleigh, but whatever it is is stopped by the music changing, and he looks over at the display, and when he sees what it is, his eyebrows raise. He stares for several moments, his head tipping a little bit to the side, but then he turns back toward Evonleigh and says something lower to her, then turns to Evander at his contribution to the ghost stories. "I've heard that before," he confirms.

"I for one have never felt this ship-born melancholy. I'm no great sailor, but it is not a stretch to think my islander blood is to blame for the pelagic harmony I find.", Lord Asriel Darkwater confides in the people at the table who are speaking of ships and ghosts, "You aren't wrong about the tales though, Duchess Vanora. Growing up in Darkwater Watch you learn the sea is asail with nearly as many memories of ships as there are actual ones. I lean into hyperbole to say that people prepare ghost stories for ships before they've even sank, but not by much." There is a smile for the Duchess that has a troublesome nature to it, but he doesn't make it much farther before Prince Galen's.. flame dancers arrive? "Prince Galen! First musicians, now this! I can only imagine what dinner at House Thrax like." He claps his hands, because who wouldn't be impressed with dancing people and fire as long as they remain a respectable distance from the table. Enough to be a spectacle without making a spectacle of the guests. It is certainly a sight, but the conversation continues now with the sometimes reflection of spinning flames in the Darkwater noble's brown-black eyes. Between Lord Aethan and Lord Evander, he remarks, "Wouldn't that be terrifying? Rare are the sails that can catch more wind than your final moments. I would be pleased if mine did not come at the hands of the ghost of Donris Ashcrest."

Evonleigh shivers a little at the description Wren sets, and nods. "I once wrote a little... not ghost story, exactly, but perhaps abyssal-inspired short story for a contest. It didn't place," she says, sadly. "Which is why I'm sticking to plays and not competing with anyone for a prize!" Her smile turns upward and she laughs, but then brows lift at the drummers. She leans her head against Aethan to better hear what he has to say, lashes dipping, before she murmurs something back.

5 Redoubt Buccaneers, Bengalo, the sneaky black cat, Luna, the sweet, studious assistant arrive, following Carita.

Ilmia looks all too happy to speak about ghosts and haunted ships while others are trying to enjoy dinner. But others are speaking on them too and it gives her a smile. She then looks up when drummers and flame wielders enter and she gives a big grin to that, completely forgetting the topic for the moment. But Asriel says a name that sounds familiar and she looks to him with a curious look. Though it flutters away as she speaks with him.

"Are you going to recount the story about Ashcrest?" Wren pointedly asks Asriel then, an expectant look on her face. "You describe it so well with all of the voices and the other things you do." Her fingers wiggle playfully at the lord for but a moment before she says to Evonleigh. "Why not revisit it now? Surely you have grown and stretched your wings, perhaps now is an excellent a time as any to see if you can't polish it into something brighter?" The drum beats and the fire don't escape notice, not at all, but by now she's moved toward food and drink, a squat glass of something precious and amber held between her fingers carefully.

"I'd certainly prefer not being killed by a dead man," Aethan confirms after Lord Asriel speaks. "If I have to be at all, I'd prefer a enemy I could fight back." Evonleigh's words about the story have him looking that way, though, and his eyebrows raise. "Did you?" he asks. "I didn't know that. Would you send me a copy?" There's a //tiny// hint of a smile there as he adds, "I can read as well as go to plays." He gestures toward Wren then, indicating agreement with her statement, one assumes.

"Oh, do you do voices!" says Evonleigh, excited to find a story teller amongst them. "Please do. I would love to hear it," she tells their host, before smiling first at Wren and then Aethan. "It's a small thing, really, but thank you for your confidence." She looks to Aethan, chuckling at his assertion that he can read. "I didn't think you couldn't, Admiral, but I am glad to be assured you in fact can. I will see if I can find a copy for you, certainly," she says, "or let you read it the original."

"Well," Galen starts in reply to Sorrel, one finger pointing toward one of the drummers, "Thats my guard Carlisle, the others I've hired, you would be surprised what you can find with the right amount of silver." the Warlord shrugs and grabs an eel skewer to take a bite of while he watches the performance and listens to the conversation at hand, "I've seen some deadmen who were quite irritating to re-kill," there is a certain seriousness to Galen's voice, surely some here know of what he speaks but perhaps others do not. "I've sailed by some 'ghostships' on more than one occasion as well, unsettling to say the least." he looks back to Valdemar, "You're probably right, I may have some more information once I meet with one of my contacts in Velenosa as well, I will relay that for your benefit."

Ilmia gives a soft smile at the talk of Ghosts, she felt like she should apologize for bringing up the subject, but it seems well recieved! "I for one would love to hear this tale. With voices. If not tonight then I know that Marquis Hadrian is holding a night where one can share spooky stories." she gives a grin to this.

Evander glances towards Aethan when he confirms he, too, heard the rumor about Baron Ashcrest. "He was, by all legend, a formidable man," he murmurs in response to Asriel. He falls silent, apparently not willing, with his soft tones, to compete with the distracting of flame dancers. He hasn't eaten all that much, really, though he's definitely tried a little bit of everything on his plate. Wren's request of Asriel has him looking curiously from one to the other, with interest.

Sir Floppington, the soulful hound arrives, following Rowenova.

At one point, the Duchess Grimhall leans closer to her husband, and they speak quietly to one another. Once they are done, Valdemar looks up and lets out a grim laugh at something Galen says. "Dead men usually /are/ irritating to kill again. Thankfully, it has been a while since that was necessary. But thank you, I would appreciate hearing of anything you learn, of course," he tells the Thraxian Prince, before standing up and helping up his wife from her seat. As he does, he looks over toward Asriel and Carita, "Thank you for inviting us. The food was delicious, and the company wonderful. But we do need to be getting back to the longhouse now."

Carita makes her way up the stairs, so late it's not even fashionable, the deep inky seasilk wrapping around her figure to bare and conceal milky skin in artful harmony. "I had a meeting that kidnapped me shamefully, will you forgive me?" She smiles warmly to the departing Duchess, and Duke Grimhall, and fingerwaves Evander's way. "Lord Evander, so good to see you!" There's a curtsy for Sorrel and Galen, a warm smile for Aethan as well.

5 Grimhall House Guards, Gustav, a gruff Islander advisor leave, following Valdemar.

After a Lycene/Oathlands meeting and a Northern birthday, Nova huffs up the Darkwater stairwell right after Carita. "Me, too. Two, even." She pulls down her messenger bag from her fur-clad shoulders.

When Valdemar and Vanora begin to take their leave, Aethan turns to nod to them, murmuring, "Duke Grimhall, Duchess Grimhall." He turns back to the table then, his smile widening just enough to be noticed after Evonleigh's last words. However, what he says is, "Thank you," and he might have said more, but Carita's entrance has him looking that way instead. "Countess," he says, returning the greeting with another dip of his head, "good to see you."

When the Countess makes her way in, Evander pushes to his feet, greeting Carita with a pleasant, "It is always lovely to see you, Countess. I'm glad you made it." He gives a bow to the departing Duke and Duchess, seemingly content to stand until the Countess finds her seat.

Ilmia gives a bit of a smile and then seems to be content on listening to the conversations that are going on around here and enjoy food quietly.

A strange look passes through Asriel Darkwater's eyes when Wren insists on a certain tale, and that look begets a small shake of his head and a raise of his hand, "That one.. I may save for another night. But it isn't as if the unusual is.. so unusual out at sea." The man refrains from voices, but tells the table, "I am reminded of a ship we discovered several years before the Gyre went to war with the Compact. A ship by the name of The Second Siren, adrift and unresponsive to attempts at dredging anyone up to the decks..". The nobleman's attention haunts between people at the table, restless in the telling of his tale. "We boarded, fearing for the safety of the crew but found none to be afraid for. The signs of life were plenty, food still on the table, several small torches burning for light. It was as if they all disappeared in the middle of dinner without a sign of a struggle." He leans back in his chair, raising a hand to silence the entertainment Prince Galen has brought. "I could never shake the sensation of being watched, and I am not given to paranoia easily. The very smallest hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. In my wisdom, I departed in great haste but I am cursed with a keen perception and as I spared a glance back toward the stairwell while making to return to our vessel I realized nothing but darkness spilled from the belly of that ship where light has shone only seconds before." Asriel's glass of darkly spiced rum is raised, and he finishes, "The moral is, when things seem strange do yourself the kindness of getting the abyss out of there. I never did meet another sailor who had ever heard of the Second Siren. I wonder at whatever became of the first."

"He does some splendid voices," Wren says to Evonleigh, concluding her words with a nod. As some leave and others arrive, Wren nurses her drink and listen to the ebb and flow of conversation, but when Carita arrives, she gives the Darkwater countess a broad smile. "Late is on time when you are the one throwing the party, my countess." She excuses herself to see to Carita, getting her something to drink and making sure there are choice bits of anything she wants available for her plate. This also allows Wren to listen to Asriel talk about the Second Siren, her lips twisting into a grimace at the end. "Still a good story. That sense of dread looming over you like an executioner's axe, that prickling feeling as if being watched by unseen phantoms. Oh aye, it is the perfect story for a night around a quiet fire beneath the stillness of the stars."

Those leaving get a nod from Evonleigh and those coming another, but she's quiet now, to listen with rapt attention to Asrael. Her gray-blue eyes widen a little now and then and she shivers a little at the resolution, with a smile for the moral. "I find stories like that far more frightening than the ones we used to tell one another as children around bonfires," the Whitehawk says. "Because it has the ring of truth around it. The false stories always resolve too neatly, too orchestrated to be truly frightening. It's moments like those, the unexplainable and unanswerable that are truly frightening, to me." She lifts her glass to the host. "Good instincts, and we are glad you are here to tell us the moral." To Aethan, she raises a brow. "I'm getting more nervous of the upcoming trip, I confess."

"Countess!" Galen exclaims when Carita arrives, he stands swiftly and offers her a respectful dip of his head, "Should you need your kidnappers put to sea, I know an able bodied Admiral," a thumbing motion is made toward Aethan before he falls back in to his seat to whisper something to Sorrel. There is a cheerful look cast toward Asriel as he starts telling his story. The tale finds the Warlord's cheer melting away like the wax of a candle illuminating the path out of the darkest night. He sits in silence for several long moments, stormy eyes fixated on Asriel and for a moment it looks like he is to speak, but ultimately he does not, instead he opts to drink.

"I had a problem with sirens once. It's dangerous to sing with them. Give you nightmares for weeks afterwards. But, ah, such a haunting melody. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever heard," Sorrel says pensively, leaning in against Galen as she recalls a past adventure. She starts humming a bit to herself, as if trying to remember the music.

Sorrel checked charm + performance at difficulty 60, rolling 21 lower.

5 Redoubt Buccaneers have been dismissed.

Bengalo, the sneaky black cat have been dismissed.

Luna, the sweet, studious assistant have been dismissed.

After clearing the last step and after hearing Asriel's tale, Nova just stops, and then she uncomfortably squirms about the siren talk. She finally cases everything awkward. The Halfshav servant quietly consults a Darkwater one.

Aethan is quiet as he listens to Asriel tell the story, his attention focused on the man, his expression a little more intense as the story goes on. The last line gets a little tip of his head, as though he's trying to think whether //he// knows that ship, but eventually he shakes his head, because he hasn't managed to call it to memory. "There's something about coming upon things such as that at sea, as opposed to on land," he agrees. He looks to Evonleigh then, though, and another huff of amusement escapes him. "I wouldn't worry too much about that," he says. "Other things, maybe." How comforting. He does, however, turn to Galen as the other man speaks, and his eyebrows raise as he looks from Galen to Carita, though he says, "Thank you for your confidence, Your Highness."

"Tales of sirens are another subject altogether," Wren says to Sorrel's words, sobering immensely as she proceeds to take a seat at the table. She doesn't drag the chair out so much as scoot it out smoothly and then squeeze her way in the gap and lower her bottom into the seat. "And like ghosts, they can be chilling and haunting tales. It's a topic I'm quite taken with. I never expected dinner to include such topics as ghosts and sirens. We should do this more often."

4 Thrax Guards leaves, following Galen.

"Right, plenty of other things to worry about on top of the other things I'm worried about already. No time for worrying about ghost ships," Evonleigh says with a laugh to Aethan, reaching to squeeze his arm lightly. "Actors and sailors are both superstitious, I think. There's a lot of superstitions around stages and the like. Many actors won't perform a certain play or even say its name, for fear of bad luck, one about a northern king," she says softly. She smiles at Wren. "Perhaps a night of ghost stories that *don't* take place on the water, while we're journeying soon," she suggests. She shivers at the nightmares from sirens, and adds. "I hope not to hear those either. Perhaps I'll bring earplugs."

3 Thrax Guards, 2 Thrax Elite Guards, Teonia Redreef, Aryka Wyrmfang, Marquessa Pudding, a doughy dog leave, following Sorrel.

Evander's listening carefully to the various tales, briefly turning away from the table to cough. After a suitable time has passed, he levers himself up. "I do apologize. I should be making my way back to the Kay. Thank you, Countess, Lord Asriel, for your hospitality," he gives a nod of head to Carita and then Asriel, with a brief smile. "Excellent as always. Good night all," as added, to the others, as he turns for the stairs. It'll take him some time to get down, but at least he'll have his scarf and gloves in place by the time he does.

Servant (Halfshav) to Servant (Darkwater), a linen bag with silky strings is passed off. Afterwards, Nova turns back to the party people and grimly notes, "Those siren used to be Marin'alfar, but they murdered their children, and before they could die, themselves, they were captured by those of their race, who sacrificed to the Dream and called them Kinslayers, to call up 'those' ... who cursed the siren into being what they are now." Big trembles here.

Jaq, a solemn looking assistant leaves, following Evander.

After his story was told, it would seem Asriel Darkwater slipped into the distance. Not physically, mind you. There is just a quality to his brown-black eyes that is altogether.. elsewhere. But whatever reverie snatched him away does not hold him for long, and the islander nobleman returns to the conversation in time, "I have heard as much about the superstitions of actors and actresses. I dare say I would find a book on the various superstitions of the stage to likely be fascinating. People are complicated, and superstition has roots in our very nature. Some more than others." Before he can say more though, Lord Evander is departing and freshest arrival begins to spill the beans on sirens in a way that causes Asriel's dark brows to loft in the air just a touch. "I don't believe I've made your acquaintance, but that is a terrific tale you have spun. Tell me, do you believe it?".

"I've never quite heard it told like that," Wren admits, not entirely uncomfortable by Rowenova's story but not unaffected either. As Asriel poses his question, she looks side-long to the new arrival, waiting to hear that answer perhaps. The food that's been laid out on the bountiful Darkwater table gets sampled, a little of this and dab of that, no clear favorite on Wren's plate. She glances toward the other seafaring folk gathered here, curious to see if any of them pipe up with feelings on that telling.

"Exactly." As though this was, indeed, what Aethan was getting at, though he can't quite hide the amusement in his expression now. Mostly, but not quite. "But sailors are definitely superstitious. We all have things we bring on voyages with us, or at least most of us do. Then things we won't have on board. Like that." He quiets at Rowenova's telling, though, and he does not look necessarily curious about it, though nor does he precisely //not//, either. However, he doesn't add anything.

The story sobers Evonleigh, and she quiets too, nodding at Asriel's words about human nature. She's finished eating for now, holding her glass lightly in graceful fingers, to sip from now and then as she turns her eyes back to Rowenova, to wait for the answer to Asriel's question.

Behind the wolf pelt, Nova still trembles. She peers out the eye sockets, spanning blues across the Thrax folk. "Some fought the Abyss. Others joined. There were those who could fight but would not join. Those were the mothers, those who wished to flee the darkness with a return to the Wheel, but not before sending their children there before them." She certainly seems to be somewhat shaky, even now. "When they became siren, they were cursed to immortality and to never know peace of the Wheel or of ever forgetting and singing people to their deaths, seeing all the things which come to be, and which will no longer be because of them, seeing all of the futures, and the possibilities there are, and they cannot change a thing the way they are. Knowledge eternal. Weeping tears of blood and sorrow without cesure, along with never knowing rest nor absolution. Giving others the relief they would always desire and never find for themselves." Then, she quiets down before peeking over toward Asriel. "Well, I saw it all." She probably sounds crazy. Emotionally rattled, she clunks down her armored rear onto a dinner chair.

Carita listens quietly, being a late comer to the party she's mostly just making sure she has something to drink. She pauses to listen to Rowenova, her brows furrowed a moment before she lifts her glass to sip from again. There's a faint smile for both she and Aethan before she clears her throat, "Lord Aethan, were you in any of the winter festivities for Thrax?"

By the time Rowenova is done spinning her tale, Wren is leaning forward with her forearms braced against the table. She isn't eating, nor drinking, simply looking at the strange-to-her woman in that wolf pelt. A heavy air lingers around her, expectant but it simply blows away as she gives a little, 'mm,' and then pushes back to recline in her chair. "That's quite the story. Chilling." She runs a hand along the back of her neck underneath that thick drape of auburn hair. "And not at all what I had expected to hear. Thank you for sharing your story with us."

"After a tale such as that, please partake of some dinner on House Darkwater..", Asriel insists to Rowenova as she sinks into a chair. As for himself, he pushes his chair out and rises up to survey the table and the people who yet remain. "It's been a pleasure everyone, but I fear my time here is drawing to an end. There is work to attend in the morning, after all. I feel as if we are all a bit more familiar now, and familiarity can breed fine friendships, so I thank you for taking the time out to attend. Feel free to stay and eat and drink for as long as you would like..". While speaking, his hands idly feel around to fix the measure of his waistcoat, and then he finishes off what is left of the dark rum in his glass and moves to depart when the farewells are finished.

Evonleigh is overheard praising Asriel: Lovely host!

Aethan's expression doesn't really change as Rowenova speaks, but he does lean back a bit in his chair, reaching to cross his hands over his chest. When she's through, he studies her for a second or two, before he nods once, perhaps in agreement. Or maybe not -- it's hard to tell. His gaze turns to the Countess then, and he shakes his head. "Not this time," he says. "Too busy planning for our trip." He reaches for his glass, but when Asriel begins to take his leave, he continues, "Thank you for your hospitality, my lord. I'll see you soon at the docks." To leave on their trip, one presumes.

Wren is overheard praising Asriel.