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What should be a familiar feeling feels alien to you. No, perhaps “alien” is not the right word, for your body still knows all the proper protocols to perform its function. You know exactly how to handle the utensils in front of you, the exact measure of the cuts you’re supposed to make in the pastries, how long you are allowed to let the hot tea simmer before your lips until you are required to sip. You learned all the proper manners of a court woman and succeeded in ingraining them into your very essence. Truthfully, much the same as you did magic, through rigorous study and drilling, copying the techniques your sword masters used for practice. There was once a day when you would be forced to admit that you lacked any natural ability for magic or manners, but now you’re certain you beat any of your peers in such topics. But you suppose all you’re doing now is distracting yourself from looking at the scene in front of you. Though thinking of the right words to say is- let us just agree to call it “difficult.”
Your mother, Queen Carrol, sits on the other side of the circular tea table, a soft smile bursting with warmth on her face. A contrast to her puffy red eyes, of which dried tear streams can still be seen. Next to her, sitting in a most undignified yet confident manner, is the Prince’s consort, who, if you may comment, added far too many sugar cubes to her drink. This is not even you being upon a suitably high horse. Twelve is simply excessive. Then off to the side is the most unusual- not a comment on the woman's character, mind you, but Rory still seems to be adjusting to her new dress. While serving a high lord such as the Bloodgraves is no easy feat, to be subsequently promoted to wait on the Queen, her likely successor, and daughter, would be as if a humble countess had the lands of a Duchy foisted upon them. No doubt quite a desirable outcome, but one that shall take more than a few days to get used to. You are certain her family shall at least enjoy the extra coin.
You begin to open your mouth to say- well, something. But quickly hide it under your cup of tea. A blend from the Kingdom of Gaullcia, the western neighbor of the merchant provinces and your own kingdom’s southern neighbor, though across the channel. A prestigious kingdom, no doubt, who shares in customs much similar to Lindan, though it focuses most of its attention on its large border with the Demon Wastes that dominate the western part of it. As such, the kingdom truly has no time to focus on either the sweet or sour portions of courtly life and culture. The tea, however, is remarkable. Though the origin of how the leaf used to make tea is shrouded in mystery, it has been a part of aristocratic life for, well, forever.
