Coronation Dinner (IC-Chat, pregame)

[Primeval Stasis]

Following the coronation of Emperor Gharrilus IV, a dinner is held at the summer palace in Ianct Ul. Black carriages bear the imperial court and vassals from the ceremony at the temple in order of importance.

A grand hall of massive grey stones and decorated with radiant trophies from across the great empire houses the crowd. At the center, on a raised and guarded platform, the Emperor's table sits arrayed with delicacies. Favored family members, important generals, and the most powerful vassals are seated before him.

Throughout the rest of the room, other subjects and even a few foreign diplomats and rulers take their seats at lesser - though still impressive - tables. By the time the last group is arrives, all that is remains vacant is a round table in the corner of the room.

[Primeval Stasis]

 

Prince Ieraliun

A young man with sharp, dark features steps into the room. A band of small gold plates, fronted by a plate with beaded tassels adorns his head. Without breaking stride, he walks to the corner table. As he maneuvers through the human sea, his colorful garments grazing chairs as he passes, he permits himself a brief cold glare at the man of hour. Though his disdain for the royal family is not exactly a secret, calling any more attention to it would not be smart.

A young woman trails him, dressed in more muted colors. Her hair is blond and her skin fair. As he nears the table, she pulls back the chair in the corner for him and remains standing. From where he sits, he surveys the crowd and waits to be joined - or not. Would that be the final humiliation from the royal family on this day?

 

[Delorphin]

 

Tenkano, Yhava'iir Srishvra

Meeting the other nations in a place like this feels like animals drinking at a watering hole. A delicate truce. Watchful eyes of predators scanning their prey. Wary eyes of prey ready to run at a moments notice. Tenkano entered the room quietly. Though tall and imposing, he had the grace and light footfalls of a young buck in its second spring. He wore a loose pair of pants that seemed to appear as a long skirt and delicate, sheer shirt that revealed a muscular body, painted with scars and ink. His back a depiction of koi fish and the ripples they make in the water. Scanning the room, he takes notice of the young man sitting alone in the corner of the room. He could feel an anger residing in him. He smiles at the sight, anger makes the best allies after all, and makes his way over to the table, leaving the scent of the sea lingering as he walks through the crowd.

He bows to the young prince. A strict 45 degree angle, his eyes trained upon the man and he was smiling.

"Good evening, Prince Ieraliun, it is a pleasure to see you again. My condolences to your father, it must be tough for you," Tenkano says, pouring wine first into the Prince's cup before his own.

He is shadowed by Mbe-Jethehyp who, after putting down a bulky satchel, pours a glass of wine for himself and the young woman. He smells of ink and parchment, and wears a similar set of clothing to Tenkano, although it was colourful and opaque.

 

Edited March 22 by Delorphin (see edit history)

[NorthOfOrdinary]

 

Princess Isabella III

Is she a lamb in a lion's den or a wolf in sheep's clothing? Isabel isn't sure which analogy is more fitting for the current venue; perhaps it is possible to be both in one instance. The young woman enters the palace with little fanfare. She hardly knows most of the people in the room, which means that any would-be adversaries are just as less apt to identify her. Her trip to the Empire's Palace is more focused on learning about potential friends and foes then it is about celebrating the crowning of her people's conqueror. To that affect, the tall and lean fair-haired governess wears only a simple white toga dress and leather sandals. To the eyes of a stranger she could be anyone - a lesser lady in waiting, a handmaiden, maybe even a servant - or to the eyes of one so astute, the indomitable harpy of the Respitan peninsula.

 

Isabel shows no smile as she joins the table of a rather dangerous looking man wearing a beaded crown and his company, an exotically tattooed man who is joined by another - more bookish perhaps. It is the first man's quiet display of disdain towards the host that draws her near. She briefly stands alone beside the other blonde girl, having brought no retinue of her own to the banquet portion of the evening beyond a couple guards posted outside. "Please don't be displeased if I intrude," She gently cautions the table when an opening presents itself. "The conversation on the other side of the room is rather dull and you fine gentleman look like you may have some better stories."

 

She calmly offers to hold hands with the other blonde. "May she sit with us?" Isabel's voice is warm and reassuring, unlike her jaded facial expression. "Where I come from it is customary for the men to seat the women, though perhaps your ladies are stronger?" It is a light jest, although she does not care whether the men accept it in fun or in ill will as long as the other woman feels even a little uplifted. Birds of a feather ought to flock together regardless of station.

 

Edited March 22 by NorthOfOrdinary (see edit history)

[Delorphin]

 

Tenkano, Yhava'iir Srishvra

Upon seeing the new arrival, Tenkano stands up and greets her, making sure to keep his second in the periphery of his vision. Mbe-Jethehyp, who is still standing, pats the left side of his hip as he puts down his cup of wine. A warrior as well. He could feel her ambition matching his own. Tenkano stands and gives a fist-and-palm salute, bowing down his head slightly, and no smile on his face.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, although my people call me Yhava'iir Srishvra, here I am merely Tenkano, representative of Iemanec Athiri. Devhaka Srishvra tanyth yii hmote syshegkae," he says, smiling once more, looking at the women. "In the great tapestry of the cosmos, no thread is any more important then another. We, the threads, can't see the Great Art, only the fibres on each thread and make our judgements from there. Young prince, I know little of your customs, enlighten us."

Is this what it feels like to be an older wolf, lingering at the back of the pack? When spring comes, it is as if they feel the vigour of the harbinger of summer while he only feels the whispers of grudging winter, grasping at his soul. His dancing and fighting can only stave off the torment of years for so long before the younger generation takes hold. Here he is, surrounded by them, at the spring of the new emperor, so ambitious and vigorous they all are in their youth. Just like him back then, just like him right now. His body won't be able to keep up with his dreams for more than a decade at most. These young ones remind him of his daughter, could he leave a legacy that will make it easy for her to take rule once he goes to the firmament?

He pours a cup of wine for the new arrival, this time with his left hand.

"I am Mbe-Jethehyp," Tenkano's aide says, mimicking his salute, "I happen to be a storyteller. If you would like, we can exchange some stories to pass the time? I even have some books with me, if you would like to read them."

 

Edited March 22 by Delorphin (see edit history)

[Kavonde]

The journey from Greatpine to Ianct Ul had been a long one, but Torren Sotherngard had felt it was his duty to bear witness to the coronation of his new emperor. Torren had attended the coronation of Gharrilus IV's father alongside his own, and the event and the journey that preceded it had opened the young man's eyes to how vast the empire truly was, how many fascinating and strange people it contained, and how much wealth it possessed.

The experience had inspired him to bring his two eldest children, Teysha and Gustavus, with him. (His youngest, Diana, had thrown a days-long tantrum trying to convince him to take her as well, but he'd remained steadfast.) His moody, taciturn teenagers were doing their best to appear unimpressed and unenthused, but he'd caught them staring at the grandeur of this piece of architecture or that natural wonder as they'd traveled, and now, as they gaze around this grand hall with all its splendid trophies, their eyes are as wide as bear roots.

The Duke of Whitepeaks and his children are dressed in their finest warm-weather clothes, though they still appear quite drab and humble compared to much of the finery on display here. Torren and Teysha have their long hair tied back, Torren's loosely gathered and tied behind his head and Teysha's done into an intricate braid. They speak quietly amongst themselves, feeling like outsiders in this great gathering of the powerful and mighty.

It's Gustavus who hears mention of a "storyteller" at a nearby table. Far more naturally curious than his father and a bit less withdrawn than his older sister, he excuses himself and makes his way over to the growing gathering. The lanky young man looks over them: the older boy with the foreboding crown, the fascinating man with the paint and tattoos, and the striking woman in the simple toga. They all look so regal and commanding; they must be among the empire's greatest lords and ladies.

Thoroughly intimidated, young Gustavus remains silent, simply hoping to listen as the storyteller--Mbe-Jethehyp, apparently, a name that Gus couldn't even begin to guess how to spell in the Imperial alphabet--recites his tale.

Meanwhile, Torren and Teysha eat their meal in companionable silence, each occasionally glancing up to study the other attendees. The sad fact is that both of them are unwed and will need to correct that fact sooner rather than later, regardless of their personal feelings on the subject. Each idly searches the room for potential matches of appropriate age, neither with all that much enthusiasm.

Torren spots the handsome young man with the ornate crown, subtly nudges his daughter's elbow, and nods towards him. Teysha looks at Prince Ieraliun, looks at her father, and shrugs. Then she notes the attractive blonde woman in the toga and repeats her father's gesture, nudging him and nodding towards her. Torren studies Princess Isabella, looks at his daughter, and mimics her shrug. They smile amusedly at each other and turn back to their meals.

[hakootoko]

Next to enter is a burly, weather-beaten man whose face is framed by unruly hair and beard and topped by a golden circlet. He is dressed in a freshly cleaned plain, square, white silk tunic with open sides, held in place by a golden chain at his waist. The long-laced sandals on his feet have tall heels obviously meant for riding. Leading him into the room is a taller, older man with graying hair, similarly dressed in white but with long sleeves and pants, and a green sash at his hips instead of gold.

The younger man's lips are pursed and he's clearly not delighted to be here, but he follows the older man to the table. Those who have been around the capital before recognize Tarrsh Kalim, the ambassador from Allard to the emperor's court. "May I introduce to you his royal majesty Gasram III of Allard, here for the first time in the capital?" says the ambassador, before continuing on to name the notables present. "Pleased to meet you," says Gasram, words at complete odds to the look on his face. "Would that we all, even the Emperor, were on a hunt than sitting through hours of ceremonies and banquets! I invite you all to join in some properly active festivities in Allard, should you ever come that way!"

[Rumguzzle]

Prince Arrick Merrin had brought the expected entourage of heirs, lesser courtisans, advisor, and ceremonial bodyguards to the coronation - all three days of it. Not showing up with a formal representation of the Principality of Farhaven would have been an insult that would cost the Prince. For this evening's dinner he was only accompanied by his daughter Thansa. They were both dressed in garments of blue trimmed with silver, his a dark blue overcoat with silver filligree along the high collar and sleeve cuffs and hers a gown of lighter blue whose back was a sheer mesh of silver threads. Where his hair was dark and curly hers was a light brown that hung straight and long but tonight was coiled up and held with silver pins. His beard, usually thick and curly was trimmed tight and oiled.

He knew some of those here, mainly by reputation though for Farhaven was far from the heart of the Empire and secluded even from those nearby states. Those seated at the table which the servants led them to were those he did not know. It was just as likely that they dis not know who he was. This was taken care of by the formal, unemotional reading of the list by the servant.

"Attending to honor the glory of Emperor Gharrilus IV is Prince Arrick Merrin of the Principality of Farhaven and guest."

It was a subtle slight that some would surely catch. No accolades of his reign nor flowery prose of his realm. Not even the naming his daughter. Whether this was due to the unimportance of Farhaven in the scheme of things or a sign that Farhaven's lack of fervor and love for the Empire was known, he would have to think on. Putting that aside for now, he greeted the others at his table and did his best to get Thansa to be polite.

Edited March 23 by Rumguzzle (see edit history)

[Neopopulas]

The Grand Duke Athamais Katraen had come along, bringing an entire entourage all the way down south had seemed pointless to him, and his own appearance was possibly more than he had wanted to commit to anyway.

Having left his family home, and his guards in their camp, he wandered the floor unattended, dressed in his finest - and it surely was fine - but much subdued compared to many here, he felt that the gaudy nature of some of those in attendance was simply too much to bear.

With only one place to go, thats where he ends up, and unceremoniously finds himself a seat before he even looks over who else is there. He can spot a few he knows, others he doesn't.. it was a large kingdom after all.

He latches onto the first mention that he can appreciate "And what is there to hunt, in Allard?"

[hakootoko]

"The lion is the most dangerous, I think most here will agree, Grand Duke," Gasram begins, looking around the table to see who nods along. "I wonder if you get them so far north. I have heard that your bears are more ferocious than ours, and am suitably jealous. There is also the lion's cousin, the mountain lion."

"Then there is the gazelle, always leaping in a direction you don't expect and fouling your shot. We also have the mountain ram, which walks easily on treacherous cliffs. Chasing one down with horse and spear is an exhilarating ride!"

He pauses to take a drink from his mug, and turn a clean mug from the center of the table upright to offer to Katraen.

"If I may ask, I have long been curious if the steppe riders harass you so far north. Have you seen the Hularga in your realm? Or the Gopleke?" he says, mentioning a couple of the mounted nomad tribes he's heard of to the north-west of Allard.

[8w_gremlin]

Queen Marisella Varyn
of the H'veckian Archipelago

The towering doors at the entrance part once more, this time to admit Queen Marisella Varyn of the H'veckian Archipelago, her silhouette framed by the dwindling light. Despite being a queen, she steps into the hall not just as a ruler of her own domain but also as a vassal under the greater empire, a testament to the complex tapestry of sovereignty and fealty that weaves the fabric of the empire's power.

Her escort comprises Admiral Goran Vek, a stalwart defender of the H'veckian seas, and Ambassador Lyria, whose wisdom has navigated the archipelago through the intricacies of imperial diplomacy. Their presence alongside the queen underscores the dual nature of her attendance—sovereignty intertwined with allegiance.

The herald, positioned with an unobstructed view of the assembly, projects his voice with practised clarity and reverence, "Her Majesty, Queen Marisella Varyn of the H'veckian Archipelago, Sovereign of the Seas, Warden of the Isles, and Faithful Vassal to the Empire." The meticulously chosen introduction acknowledges her regal stature and her realm's subservience to the empire, delineating the respect accorded to her sovereignty and role within the imperial hierarchy.

As she moves gracefully across the room towards the vacant round table, her attire—a masterful blend of H'veckian tradition and royal elegance—catches the light, casting shimmering reflections that mimic the play of sunlight on ocean waves. 

She nods her acknowledgement at some of the other dignitaries present.

[m3owdy]

Whispers arise amidst some of the other tables seated, as the leader of another vassal delegation ambles around the grand hall, followed by an entourage of few servants - a grizzled, stone-faced man holds a white, tiered parasol perfectly straight, sheltering their charge with a strong sense of duty, whilst another younger page darts their gaze around with purpose, recognizing those present and whispering names amongst other information to their Lady.

They are followed by another two girls - one timidly holding a highly-decorated, lacquered tray containing their Lady's fancies and other ceremonial Svesrin offerings of peace, the other scribbling notes onto paper in shorthand for a non-Imperial script.

 

Queen Kyaravarti speaks in a husky voice, musing and rhyming with ornate syllables that dance around the Common tongue.
"Why must we quarrel amongst ourselves, flowers that bloom in the same forest?" she laments, in a formal register.
"Hounds - gifted livers, bark for gizzards, fight over scraps and end up gnawing on bones," she scoffs, in the vernacular.
They meet the gazes of scowling guests with a mysterious smile, born form neither kindness nor courtesy. Only knowing.

She eventually stops by a table at the behest of one of the servants ushering her, stopping to curtsey as her retinue follows in suit.
Prince Ieraliun. And the regents of Iemanec-Athiri, H'veckia & Allard; and those of Whitepeak, Farhaven, Katraen; and that of Respita.
Queen Kyaravarti had heard of these names before, from letters and contracts made between her suzerainty and her counterparts' ministers.

"Svasti," Queen Kyaravarti addresses the table, curtly, yet with due courtesy. One of her servants steps forward, hand on their chest, addressing the crowd.

"Esteem of the Black Court and the Spires of Saptamani, she who is robed in the thread of the Golden Banner and the people of Svesri."
"Great Lords, Ladies; my Queen, Lady Kyaravarti, wishes to feast with you."

Edited March 24 by m3owdy (see edit history)

[Neopopulas]

There is a pause as newcomers join, before the duke continues "Lions i have heard of, surely. The bears of the north would give them a run I do not doubt, though larger the bears tend to move alone.. There are rumours however of wolves the size of your lions, and packs even larger.."

He looks around the group once more "We don't see the steppe riders no, but we have our own problems. More than one nomadic tribe in the hinterlands, some more friendly than others.. they have their own territories.. I try not to encroach too much but.. well.. there is only so much you can do."

[Primeval Stasis]

On 3/21/2024 at 4:53 PM, Delorphin said:

Tenkano, Yhava'iir Srishvra

On 3/21/2024 at 5:31 PM, NorthOfOrdinary said:

Princess Isabella III

She calmly offers to hold hands with the other blonde. "May she sit with us?"

 

Prince Ieraliun

The speech of the large man and his companion stirs Ieraliun at last from his brooding. It has been some time since their last meeting, and under much different circumstances. Though trained in classical governance and skeptical of Athiri Iemanec in general, he remembers his father's high opinion of the man himself. Guard against dismissing those strange to you. You risk missing a lesson to imitate, or an approach to guard.

"The pleasure is shared, Tenkano." He stands with a slow dignity, first matching the older man's bow, then extending his upturned right arm to clasp the other's left in a display of warmth and trust. "I know my father wished to visit your holy mountains once more before he passed beyond this life. He would be glad to know of this meeting." Belladina went to intercept the wine glass passed to him, but thankfully a newcomer intercepted before the prince had to signal her to back away.

Though she was simply adorned, Ieraliun was not misled. There was iron in her eyes, in her hard expression, and in her arms. It catches him off-guard then, when she slides up beside Belladina. Seeing the surprise and confusion in his bodyguard's evergreen eyes, Ieraliun smiles. "I tried to get her to come as a foreign dignitary and simply enjoy the event. But she preferred things this way."

He raises a brow slightly as he looks in the woman's eye, "Though I don't know where it is you're from, I'd guess the women there can handle themselves well. But let it never be said that a prince of Hellaga lacked in manners." Standing, he offers a chair to the woman and passes her the glass intended for Belladina, who wouldn't touch a drop.

He is about to answer Tenkano when a series of newcomers arrive. Though introducing himself to each in turn, he largely stays quiet, observing those gathered. A new emperor, a new chance at change...

 

[NorthOfOrdinary]

 

Princess Isabella III

Isabella finds herself newly perplexed by the words of the Prince of Hellaga, whom seemed to have inferred that the other blonde woman had come as a servant of her own volition. Perhaps they have even more in common then she had originally surmised. She shoots the woman a glance meant to communicate respect even as she accepts the glass of wine and the seat offered by the man with the braided crown.

"And let it never be said that a Princess of Respita was ingrateful for such chivalry," The young governess raises her new glass to the Prince before taking a soft sip. Isabella locks eyes with the other men at the table. "Mbe-Jethehyp, I would be delighted to hear one of your stories. It appears you already have a growing audience." She waves daintily to the other nobles joining their vicinity before indulging in her second sip.

The Princess studies the faces and the bodies of all the people around her, her curiosity hiding the game of chess playing out in her head. She briefly watches the man and his daughter, the pair of hunters, and the decorated queens alike. They seem like interesting people to her, all of them, though none pose enough of a distraction to keep her from the conversation at hand. A third sip, as she awaits the tale of Tankano's chronicler.

@Primeval Stasis @Delorphin