The Iron Guard Mess Hall. A place for men and women of all social classes, but generally the lower. That is why the officers and the senior guardsmen find themselves with a few tables to themselves, and Michael in particular is the guest of honor at one of them. With thorny vines setup in a half-circle around where he'll be served, with a bare plate, cutlery, and empty cup before it. Everyone knows that tonight is to talk about the tournament of thorns, and Michael's choice to be in it as the target of pranks. Many, many eyes are watching to see what will happen.

Everyone knows? EVERYONE knows? Michael didn't know. Michael let it slip his mind. Lieutenant Michael Bisland showed up to the Iron guard Mess Hall to relax and feel safe amongst his law enforcement peers. But when he arrives, things are glanced at carefully. Oh no. Now he is catching on. He settles himself carefully into his seat and is peering around the room with trepidation.

Merek has on his cape adjusted to his black attire, while he makes his way to settle at one of the tables. He makes sure to pick up his food while he looks to Michael and to others also, as he offers a polite nod also.

Of course Lady Monique Greenmarch is here. She loves to watch Michael squirm. And she's organizing the Tournament, of course. There's a bright and entirely unreassuring smile for the guest of honor before the beauty turns to Sparte. "Commander. So pleased to be invited. I'm absolutely thrilled to join such fine company. I feel very safe."

Olivia makes her way in. She was dressed daintily for brunch, so she decided look tough for dinner with the guard. Well as tough as she can with that big smile on her face. "She waves to everyone as she walks through, officer or recruit, peer or commoner. She spots Michael and her eyes narrow playfully and her mouth scrunches up. "Lord Michael. I heard people get to play pranks on you? Am I limited to one?"

Hickson walks into the mess hall flanked by two iron guardsmen. He immediately recognizes Michael, and makes his way over to bow. "Evening, m'Lord," he says politely, and then turns to follow Merek to the food and drink, and begins to fill a plate.

It is not in his usual Iron Guard outfit Sparte is tonight, but wearing the garb typical of the staff assigned kitchen duty. He is helpfully seeing the officers and esteemed guests served, starting with rolling out soups and pitchers of drinks. "Thanks to everyone who came. Lord Michael, I hope you enjoy the meal tonight. The soup is a winter harvest with some savory spices and tart apples to balance it out, the drink is mulled cider or water as you prefer. I've brought a pitcher of both for your table, Lord Michael, in case you change your mind." Sparte serves Lord Michael's table last, settling down across from him. "I've been working in the kitchens, but Wilhelm has helpfully agreed to wheel out the rest of the food tonight so I can stay and talk."

1 Grayson House Guards, Peaches, a lovely white war filly with a peach saddle, Deliverance, an albino falcon, Stormy, a silvery gray hunting hound, Rascal, a hyper terrier, Rosalie, a lady in waiting arrive, following Reese.

"I think you're limited to /none/ Olivia, I do not know that you seek to participate in the tournament of Thorns." Michael is looking for...for Calaudrin or Silas or Rymarr. Someone else to divert attention. But no. This cheese stands alone. "Quite a lot of new officers, Sparte...what are your /intentions/? I'd prefer to know that the food I am to eat is safe. I've already bitten into a candied sweet onion so I am left leery now."

Lottie peeked her head into the mess hall, a box indicative of her brand in hand before her body followed her head into the great vaulted room. She gave a brisk glance around, seeking out one Guardsman in particular for the moment. She seemed a little nervous being in here given how long it had been, but small smile was on her lips nonetheless.

Olivia grumps a little, "Who says I don't?" She looks all super serious at Michael. "Or are you worried my prank will be that Legendary?"

Monique picks a place at the table not far from the guest of honor, her regard sliding with curiousity to Hickson, a nod given in that direction. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure. Lady Monique Greenmarch," she offers to him with a smile.

Sparte chuckles. "What a waste of an onion." Sparte pours himself some water, taking a sip. He then reaches for his spoon and pulls his own bowl of soup closer. "I just want to discuss what you'd consider an appropriate prank, Lord Michael. I assure you there is nothing like that, all the food will taste fine."

There he was! Lottie tentatively made her way over to Sparte's chair, standing a polite distance as she awaited to be addressed.

Reese arrives in the mess hall while shivering her pink cloak. The tip o her nose is pink too. She peeks over the area, trying to get a feel for things here. "Hi, everyone." She says softly before starting further inside. "Thanks for hosting this Sparte."

Hickson, with a plate of food - some of which is already in his mouth - and a mug of ale, carefully bows to Monqiue. "I am Hithon Gathes uf the Iron Gord," he says, grimacing slightly as he realizes he should have waited to speak. He takes a long drink of ale, swallows and then says again, "Apologies, m'Lady. I am Hickson Gales of the Iron Guard. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Sparte. You /are/ trying to scheudle a prank with me." Michael is shaking his head as he pours himself some of that cider. Lady Monique is here too. That gets a closer look. She is here for..something. "Did you invite Lady Greenmarch, Sparte? Is she going to also be assisting you in devising a prank?"

Sparte chuckles. "Lord Michael, relax. I'm sure she'll have things to contribute, but really, we're just all here to enjoy a meal together." Sparte grins over at Reese. "Nothing out of the ordinary, having dinner at the barracks. Still a pleasure to have you here with us." Of course, he can't miss Lottie at this point. He blinks at her a few times before giving her a smile. "Hi there. Welcome, pull up a chair?"

"Oh, no no. I don't want to intrude." Lottie briskly explained. "I just heard y'all were havin' a big dinner and thought it wouldn't hurt to drop off a little bit of dessert." Summer day smile had now engulfed her features, wiping away the nervousness from moments prior. "Show my appreciation an' all that." She nodded, gesturing to a clear spot on the table. "Y'mind? I'll get it set then be outta' all your hair."

Monique nods her crimson head to Hickson, giving the soldier and easy grin. "The pleasure is mine. How long have you been with the Guard, Sir Gales?" she asks, and then Michael is catching her attention, and she laughs. It's not reassuring at all. "Not I, Lord Bisland. I would /never/. And," she adds, to Olivia, "anyone may participate. It's in the rules. Rules he," she gestures to Michael sweetly, "agreed to."

Olivia beams brightly at Monique, "Excellent! I have several options... Now to pick the best...." She grins and taps her chin in thought.

"I do not think I will be able to relax, fully, for some weeks yet." The cider is drank from carefully, slowly, then a taste to savor just to make sure its right. Then he will relax again into his chair. "At least you seem to throw a wonderful dinner, you've attracted quite a crowd, Officer Sparte." A fake-glower shines down the table towards Monique, but he doesn't COMMENT on that. "Is that Lottie? I've been eating your desserts for weeks, it seems. You have not made it easy to stay fighting trim this winter, goodwoman."

Feeling relieved that Monique was not offended, he smiles and says, "Not Sir, m'Lady, just Investigator Gales or Hickson. I've only started formally serving with the Guard recently, but I've been a consultant for a while now, when they've need help with investigations." His brown eyes rest on her a moment, and he says, "I have heard a bit of your reputation, m'Lady. I'd be most curious to know how you found your fortunes change sometime, though I suspect you're very busy."

Olivia checked wits + legerdemain at difficulty 30, rolling 21 higher.


Having caught word that Michael is once again putting himself out in the world for the good of the Tournament of Thorns qualifiers, Ronja slips into the Mess Hall. Spring is here, so she's lost the fur and seasilk cloak, but blue leather armor remains a fetching look all the same. She doesn't approach Michael, but instead seeks to make herself seen from a distance, to give him a little wiggle of her fingers and a wink. Nothing ominous about that.

Reese continues to further inside, going to take a seat at the table. She then peeks over to Lottie. "Does this mean that we are getting cookies?" She asks while taking a seat. Olivia is given a warm smile that brings forth her dimples. She then looks over to Hickson, giving him a smile as well, seemingly curious about him. "Oh, a new guardsman." She comments, before waving to Ronja.

Sparte smiles at Lottie. "If you want to contribute to the meal tonight, then I must insist you join us. It is only right we return your kindness with our hospitality." Sparte looks over to Michael. "A few weeks yet, you've a point. So I was wondering about effective pranks. Would wet paint on a chair be a good one? Or too hard on your clothes?"

Lottie's brows lifted in unison as Michael addressed her, her smile growing comically cheshire-like at such a compliment from the Sword of Pridehall. "Thank you so much, my lord. An' yeah, it's me! Lottie Parkins." She confirmed, head tilting slightly to the side as she shifted the pastry box in her hands a bit. "I probably /should/ apologize if my cookies been findin' their way to an added layer around the middle... but I definitely ain't gonna'. I'm glad to hear my food's worth a few extra laps around the training grounds." Ah, there's Reese! "Princess! Hello! No cookies tonight. I think you've had what I brought before though. Grandma's special recipe. Second one I made since the strawberries started comin' in! These are real sweet too." At Sparte's insistence she turned and looked as if she was about to further decline, but instead she simply took a deep breath and nodded to the affirmative before moving to set out dessert for when everyone was ready and find a place to sit.

Lottie drops Grandma Parkins Strawberry Cake.

Michael checked perception + streetwise at difficulty 51, rolling 39 lower.

Monique smiles winningly in Michael's direction before turning back to Hickson, looking pleased. "I love it when people have heard of my reputation and don't automatically try to throw me in jail. I'd be happy to have a drink some time, Investigator Gales."

Olivia hmms and stands up. She heads over to Michael and give him a gentle hug. Little does he know she has a little vial in her hand and when her hand passes by his neck one drop of oil comes out on to his neck. She lets go of the hug, "Been a while, and you are the guest of honor." She winks and heads back to her seat. It takes a moment to build up, but suddenly there is a rather pungent odor wafting from Michael. Something akin to sever skunks frolicking about.

Hickson inclines his head to Monique and says, "I would be be delighted, m'Lady." When Reese smiles his way, he returns it and, this time remembering to set down his food and mug, bows properly. "It's an honor, Your Highness. Aye, I've recently been made a formal recruit of the Iron Guard, and I'm happy to serve the Sentinel and the people of Arx." His nose suddenly wrinkles, and he picks up his food and takes a few steps away from Michael, trying to look nonchalant.


Ronja meets eyes with Reese and flashes the Princess a grin. She starts approaching the scene of the various crimes and is about to greet Monique: "My Lady-- oh. Oh, no, no, no." She waves her hand in front of her nose, smelling the same thing Hickson does, and begins backing away from Michael's general direction. "Hgh. Hrp."

Reese looks over the strawberry cake and her blue eyes widen. "oh, yummy..." She says. She then turns to Hickson. "The Sentinel. I need to learn more about him. I don't know much." She admits and her cheeks are warmed with some pink from the cold outside. "Welcome to the guard."

Reese checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 9 higher.

Lottie checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 3 higher.

Michael checked strength + athletics at difficulty 30, rolling 2 lower.

"Of course you wouldn't, Lottie. No need." More and more people see fit to visit the Iron Guard barracks, and Ronja is a large part of the distraction that allows Olivia to place her oh so lovely scent upon him. "At this point...I suppose..." Then his hand reaches back to touch upon the back of his neck, and between his shoulders. Ah. Wet. "I guess nobody has been taking much worry about my clothes, Goodman Sparte." Since Olivia doesn't seem to be. A real glower is sent off to the retreating blonde form of Olivia. Michael stands and whips off his tunic, to bunch up and FLING towards the fleeing Ashford.

Olivia checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 15, rolling 3 lower.

Monique checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 11 lower.

Sparte checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 5 lower.

Olivia stupidly turns as she hears a commotion and gets nailed right in the face by michael's tunic. "ACK!" She flails and falls down.

Was somebody saying something? Because Monique is entirely at a loss for words because Michael is now shirtless.

Michael gets Tournament of Thorns bronze thorn from a chest of thorns.

Reese checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 12 lower.

Reese is all pink cheeked and shy! "Um, I didn't know it was that kind of meal, Sparte." She says and looks from Michael to the cake and then back to Michael and then back to the cake.

Ronja checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 6 lower.

Reese checked composure + etiquette at difficulty 60, rolling 20 lower.

Siri, a talented condemner arrives, delivering a message to Hickson before departing.


Ronja has the wide-eyed, incredulous grin of someone who is only just barely holding back laughter. Her lips are pressed together tightly but almost twitching with wanting to CACKLE. "Oh, my Lord Michael," she says, tears welling in her eyes. "You... hnn... You seem to be... ha ha... Under... haaa... Underdressed for the pffff for the occasion-- ah, hell, ha ha ha hahaha--" Ronja can't hide her laughter anymore, and just gives in, nearly doubling over, making her braids shake and her beads clack. "I'd offer you something to wear, my Lord," she manages to squeak out between giggle fits, "but I fear you'd stretch my things all out..."

Reese gets A shiny pink overbust corset from a willow woven basket lined with petal pink wool.

Lottie didn't even need a check on this one, she simply abruptly looked down to her plate as there was an un-shirted Bisland lord in the room and she was a particularly modest type of lady. She was smiling, though. Hand rising to smother the giggled intermittently speckled by the baker's tell-tale snorts.

Reese looks over to Ronja, nodding in response to her words. "I have something that might work for him." She says gets a pink corset from her basket.

Ronja checked composure at difficulty 30, rolling 21 lower.

Sparte @emit Sniff. Sniff sniff. Sparte wrinkles up his nose, putting a hand up over his face. "What IS that smell? Heavens above." Sparte gives Olivia an accusatory look. "People are eating!"


Ronja takes one look at the corset and is now WEEPING with laughter, having to turn away entirely.

Olivia stands and tosses the tunic to Sparte this time. "It wasn't me. /Apparently/ Lord Michael has some body odor issues." She gestures to the tunic.

Sparte checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 30, rolling 5 higher.

"I hope the smell doesn't effect the taste of the cake. Maybe I should just take it another room for stafe keeping..." Reese says, starting to reach out for the pink cake.

"Thank you -" Hickson begins to say to Reese as he witnesses this turn of events. He chuckles softly and takes a long drink of ale. "Never a dull moment," he says softly as he watches the corset come out.

Michael continues to stand though, shaking his head towards Olivia and NOT coloring when he is being offered a corset of all things to cover up with. "No? Its my bodily odor and not something else applied? I suppose then, that you do not wish to receive your bronze thorn?" One is retrieved from his pocket, held gleaming between fingers and offered towards her. "Lyros..." And a man is nearby, who is usually nearby Michael. "Go burn the tunic, friend. And fetch me the doublet I keep in my office."

Sparte leans sideways half out of his chair to make sure that the smelly tunic doesn't touch him. No thanks, the floor can have that one. "The cake will be fine." Sparte looks over to Hickson. "Guardsman, please dispose of that tunic with prejudice."


"If she doesn't want it, I'll take it," Ronja struggles to choke out while trying to recover from her laughing fit. "Hell, I'll take the corset, if you won't."

Olivia winks at Michael, "Well I guess, perhaps I aided your natural musk?"

All of a sudden, Monique starts choking on a sip of water.

Reese leaves the cake alone. For now anyways. She peeks over to Ronja when she speaks of the corset, seemingly tempted. "One hand it is part of my leather armor. On the other hand, it would really lovely on you, Ronja."


Ronja rubs her cheeks and wipes water from her eyes. She's mostly back to normal. "Oh, don't mind me, Your Highness -- I'd only use it to be truthful in my claims that I was able to get Princess Reese out of her corset." She winks, but the effect is somewhat lost from how she was just in tears laughing.

Hickson checked perception + investigation at difficulty 30, rolling 24 higher.

Michael plops back down as he waits for Lyros to return with his doublet, a smirk for Monique's sudden inability to drink water as he turns back to Sparte. "Wet paint upon clothes would be fine. Especially so if it was armor, armor would be preferably. Easier to have someone wash it clear." Because thats what they WERE talking about.

Hickson nods to Sparte, and sets down his food and drink. He quickly moves to the nearest filthy rag, and scoops of the tunic, careful not to touch it with his bare flesh. Unable to help himself, though he is almost gagging, he finds a place where there appears to be some discoloration. He quickly leaves the mess hall and returns shortly afterward. "It's been destroyed, Commander," he says to Sparte, "with /extreme/ prejudice. The tunic had been contaminated with some kind of substance," he adds softly. "By someone with skill in alchemy, I should guess." He grins slightly, and picks up his mug of ale again.

Reese looks over to Hickson, nodding to him. "Well I have no skill in alchemy myself." She says before peeking over to Ronja and looking amused at her words. "Oh, well there is that, I mean there might be some other pink corsets around. Apollo makes corsets in all sorts of color. I should make one out of pink steel ribbons." She then muses.

Olivia whistles innocently as she sits and picks up her glass and raises it in a toast to Michael. A big grin on her face.

Sparte nods to to Hickson. "Thank you." Sparte looks back to Michael. "Good to know. I was wondering about the merits of alchemy myself. For instance, there are some tasteless mild poisons you can slip into a person's food. Not actual painful poisons, but the sort that clear the bowels in a hurry. I'm sure there is a fancy name for it." Sparte takes another bite of his own soup. "Which reminds me, the next wave of food should be here soon. Blackened fish and peppered crisps using the peels from making the soup."

Reese looks over to Olivia. "Hmmm...doesn't alchemy have to do with plants often?"


Ronja grins to Reese. "True, but I WOULD have witnesses," she says, gesturing at the rest of the room. "But it's just a bit of mischief, nothing you need worry about. Unlike, say, poor Lord Michael."

Olivia nods, "Well yes. There is a lot that can be done with plants with alchemy, and a lot of things that can be made from plants. But it is not limited to Apothecary work. There is work with other reagents as well. Anything to make new and interesting things!" So that might have given away the fact she is skilled in Alchemy.

Reese looks over to Ronja, nodding in response to her words. "Oh, you do make a point." She says and then turns to Olivia. "So do you. Besides Olivia is too sweet and innocent to make stinky potions." She says, nodding along with that.

"Apollo makes very good corsets, I am told. And very good everything else. I go to him for everything I need constructed of leather." Lyros does show up with that doublet, and Michael leans forward to pull himself into it. "I would object to that sort of thing. Cleansing the bowels...I do have duties and needs I must attend to. If you would be kind enough not to do that to me." The entrees start arriving and Michael stares down at his food, then up at Sparte. "Is this safe?"


"I'm quite good for leather," Ronja says, slapping the thigh of her blue leather trousers gently, "But I'll need to find someone to get me kitted out for the sunshine again. Though speaking of less cumbersome garb, Lord Michael, I don't think anyone would have had a problem with you remaining out of yours." Ronja smiles, but it doesn't seem like this is prelude to a prank. More just mildly inappropriate.

Reese nods in response to Michael. "He is super good. I am working on a fool set. Getting everything he makes in pink." She says, before looking over to Ronja. "Hmmm...I guess a yellow silk sundress is what you need?"

Sparte glances around the room, then looks back to Michael with a shrug. "In this crowd? Who knows. Here, swap plates with me." Sparte offers his own over to Michael. "It was safe when I helped cook it, but I've not been in the kitchens for a while now." Sparte looks over to Reese. "Princess Sir, when we get to desert, would you do the honors of cutting the cake that Miss Lottie so kindly brought?"

"In this crowd..You speak truth, Sparte." Michael eagerly reaches out to swap their plates before plucking a fork up from beside his plate to poke around his food. "A sundress is easily done, Princess Reese. And I'd rather be warm than chilled, /RONJA/."

Reese is overheard praising Hickson: pretty smart at figuring things out!

Reese is overheard praising Sparte: Great dinner!

Reese is overheard praising Michael: I won't say why!

2 Iron Guardsmen leaves, following Hickson.

Reese is overheard praising Ronja: Maybe she will get a yellow sundress! Either way it always great to see her.

Reese is overheard praising Lottie: Cake!

Reese is overheard praising Olivia: Too innocent for stinky alchemy, reallllllllly

Sparte is overheard praising Reese: For speaking so well of everyone!

Reese looks over to Sparte, smiling to him. "Oh, I would love to cut the cake." She softly says. She then turns to Michael. "Nice. I should a pink silk sundress. Maybe I will." She ays thoughtfully. "The person who cuts the cakes gets the biggest slice."


"So we can be shirtless in the sun, and not a chilly mess hall," Ronja replies to Michael, one eyebrow raising. "And, Your Highness, I'm afraid a sundress might prove a problem. For one, I'd spoil the look with all my tattoos. For another, I'm much more of a blouse and slacks type, anyway. Usually harder to grab hold of during a swordfight."

Reese looks over to Ronja. "I think it would be fine with the tattos, but you make a point about sword fights." She says toward her, seemingly thoughtful.

Sparte bites into the plate Michael passed him without hesitation, enjoying the main course of the meal. As he eats he gestures to the crisps, taking a break to speak. "I found out, rather on accident, that insects fry up pretty similar to peelings. With enough seasoning, you wouldn't be able to tell what you were eating until it was too late. I mean, unless you've got a really sharp eye." Sparte chomps down on another crisp, chewing as he lifts an eyebrow at Michael. "How would that one rest with you?"

Olivia stands and sets her glass down, "Thank you guard for letting me come have some fun! I should like to come next time too!" She smiles. "I must be heading to bed." She wiggles her fingers at everyone and Michael gets an extra little wink!

Michael tug a knife and fork through the flesh of the fish and splitting it open. "Sundresses are a splash of soft color that would do more to highlight the artwork you've adorned on your body rather than detract from it." The Lieutenant apparently has clear opinions about women's clothing. "A prank needs to be recognizable to me though. Would I miss it, Sparte?"


"I love my tattoos dearly -- I should, since I'm the one stuck with them until the shops are able to sell me a new skin." Ronja folds her arms and keeps a mirthful smile to go with the light tone in her voice. "But I still like to look a bit more dangerous than a sundress implies when I'm inexplicably a common sailor rubbing shoulders with Ladies and Princesses." A look to Reese, and a nod.

Sparte makes a tch sound as Michael asks the question, not seeming sure himself. "You've a point. I guess there are days where I wouldn't know the difference either." Not when /he/ is helping cook, but, well, feeding thousands of people means you have a lot of cooks. Quality varies. Sparte finishes off his fish, sliding the plate to the side so he can rest an elbow on the table. "So getting your clothes dirty is fine, but anything to do with food that is a surprise seems to be out. Well, maybe. It isn't exactly a prank, but tonight's planned desert is for the brave." Sparte glances over to the pink cake. "Anyone not up to the risk is welcome to cake, but... Each table is being brought a plate of cream puffs touched with honey and rolled in sugar. One of the puffs in each pile is filled with a terribly spicy slurry instead whipped together with whatever peppers we had on hand."

Reese looks over to Michael, nodding in response to him. She finally goes to get the cake and starts cutting pieces. One piece is very large and Reese seems about to take it for herself, but then she tries to give such to Ronja intead. "Sundresss doesn't seem very dangerous."

Ronja checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 23 higher.

Sparte checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 14 higher.

Reese checked luck at difficulty 15, rolling 0 higher.

Merek checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 2 higher.


"Maybe I will need a corset, to push in all the plumpness I'll gain from eating this cake," Ronja says to Reese with a laugh, but she accepts the cake all the same. She doesn't sit at a table, instead pilfering a fork and eating while standing, like some sort of uncultured boor. She also grabs a cream puff off of one of the platters and pops it into her mouth -- "Ah. No, this one was sweet. Ah well."

Merek makes his way to what people are doing also!

Reese looks over to Ronja with amusement, the girl nodding in response to her. "Corsets are good for that." she says softly, before smiling over to Merek. "Hi, Master Merek, oh, are you going to wear the dress you won?"

Reese is overheard praising Merek: yay, won a dress!

Reese checked luck at difficulty 12, rolling 12 higher.

Reese checked luck at difficulty 20, rolling 4 lower.

Merek checked luck at difficulty 12, rolling 12 higher.

Merek checked luck at difficulty 20, rolling 2 lower.

Michael has no part in this bit. Shaking his head very quickly when Sparte inquires amongst the group if they want to try the challenge. His fish is finished, and he makes quick work of the bits of potato skins upon his plate as well. "I'll send you something, Ronja. We'll see how it fares."

Sparte helps himself to one of the pastries as they roll out, enjoying it, but doesn't decide to go for a second. His meal is complete. "And you don't care to gamble, which is entirely wise." Sparte looks over to Ronja with a grin. "I bet if someone advertised a cakeproof corset, there would be plenty of bakers lining up to prove them wrong."


"Only send me something? Not help me into it?" Ronja is relentless with Michael, isn't she? But then again, is this not perhaps a long con -- after all, per the official rules of the challenge, it's days yet before she can try to prank him again... but there are no rules about trying to lay down the groundwork well in advance. Or is she just flirting? Tough month for Lord Bisland, probably. "Just as the corsetmakers would line up praying for the downfall of anyone advertising cakes that won't result in a corset," she replies to Sparte in between giant forkfuls of cake.

Reese has one piece of cake an then a second piece of cake and then a third piece! She then gasps. "Ohooo..spicy, spicy, need water, this is gross!"

Merek eats more of the cake, and while he is not too bothered by the spice, he does make a face as the male also settles back on his seat a bit as well.

Sparte interjects for Reese, waving over one of the server. "Milk for Princess Reese, please!" A laugh and he gestures to Merek. "And for Sir Merek!" Sparte looks back to Michael with a grin. "Your wardrobe may suffer, but I'll work on a prank in keeping with your guidelines. Thanks for the lively discussion, Lord Michael. I guess this meal is at an end."

"I think a cakeproof corset would find wearers of both genders. And would instantly make its creator the richest man in Arvum. Probably the entire world. Might settle plenty of rough relations." Michael is fine sitting in his chair, watching people subjecting themselves to the winds of fate. "It was a very lovely meal, Sparte. Thank you for inviting me."