When all guests have arrived, there will be approximately one hundred and twenty in attendence. The atmosphere is generally light and good humored. From time to time the war, now nearly two years past, is brought up in conversations due to its lingering, though lessening, effect on populace, farming, and foreign relations. The nobility are generally well thought of, though the usual disagreements of defense and basic styles of managing the lands can be heard.

Most of the people of Palendies wear a style of late Burgundian Renaissance attire. Married women wear their hair coiffed in some fashion back from their faces. Single ladies pull their hair in intricate designs off their necks if they are of marriagable age. The younger, or those not interested in making a match, wear their hair down and loose. Visitors would not be expected to know this custom, but a few moments of confusion occurs with brief misunderstandings.

((Note: If any insult is thrown at His Highness, there will be jail time. Any fights that possibly begin will be free to run their courses in the inner bailey outside the hall doors -- probably drawing some crowd, but none of the guards or warbands will interfere unless innocent bystanders look to be harmed))

The sailing had gone smoothly enough, and it gave Ewan the opportunity to play the able seaman once again. He so rarely had the chance these days to take to the sea. Sailing was a cleansing, and he felt so very alive when he was climbing the ropes.

It also kept him busy during the voyage. That busy status did not end when he arrived at port either. All other passengers went on to the manor to prepare for the ball that night, but Ewan had to see to the transport of goods, the status of the crew, and report on all these things to Their Excellencies.

With the fortunate of it being Cian's birthday, Ewan also had to wash up before doing so, as he had been invited to the birthday party as well as the ball afterwards. Cian ran around with some youth of the manor and nearby town as the adults stood about watching, talking, and laughing at the children's antics. Ewan's arrival was something of a high point, as now Cian felt he had someone he could appropriately attack with his new wooden sword.

Against the chiding of his mother, Ewan nodded to Sylvia, "No, it is fine." He proceeded to direct Cian's clumsy whacks more appropriately, still deflecting any from actually causing himself, or any of the other gathered children, harm.

Released from the end of the party, Ewan rushed to his quarters to clean up more thoroughly and brush out his finer clothing. He had to rely on one of the kitchen pages to assist him, but the lad was eager to do well, and had everything set out. It had not occurred to him to obtain new clothing for the evening until just at that moment, but it being too late, he would have to settle for the best he had. Fortunately, he so rarely had to wear it, that it was unlikely anyone would notice -- except the court ladies who always said how well the cut of the dark green tunic and black linen pants showed him off. Bold ladies all that he gave little more than polite conversation to.

This night, he smiled at the thought, he would have Rhian on his arm. With his clothes in place, his rusty blonde hair neatly tied back, polished black boots, he gave a few coins to the lad for his help and then nearly bolted from his quarters to meet Rhian where they had planned earlier. He did have the good sense to slow his pace before arriving, and there he waited for her, in the west hallway before the main hall outside the Ball entrance.

Ewan had mentioned the name of the ship to her at the Red Dragon Inn. And so it was that particular vessel, the "Wren," she sought out and asked permission to board. First, her name was stated to a crewman, just in case there was a passenger manifest that must be checked. She also told him another name ... that of Elijah Thorpe ... and hoped his name appeared on the list as well, or at least had Shylah Vulpecula 'and guest'.

Waved aboard, she lugged her suitcase up the gangplank and onto the ship. Another one of the crew tried to relieve her of the cumbersome piece of luggage and said he would place it in her quarters. Presumed he was speaking about her room at the Manor, she did not wish to release her hold on the travel bag during the entire voyage for there were valuable items inside. Only after extracting an explanation and a promise from the man (on his father's grave) that nothing would be lost, stolen or broken during the trip, did she give it up to him. But just for 'insurance' purposes, she asked for his name. One can never be overly cautious, especially at Sea.

While she watched the amused and snickering sailor move off with her suitcase, a sly grin formed. Certainly he must think her nothing more than a worrisome female afraid of losing her clothing. Well, he was partially correct.

A curious inspection of the ship was made from the place she chose to stand, making sure to keep out of the way of the busy crew. A lean against rail was taken, and thoughts of sailing to Yransea were uppermost on her mind. They would arrive the day before the Ball if all went well, and if she had not misunderstood.

Ewan had stopped pacing some moments before, and stood in the hallway. He thought many possibilities: he was in the wrong hall, she was not feeling well, or, and what was most likely to him, she had changed her mind and did not wish to attend the ball with him.

Just as he was going to resign himself to fate, and the likelihood that he would have to deal with too many court ladies tonight for his liking, he heard the rushing of cloth and quick steps that abruptly softened and slowed coming from an adjoining hall. He turned to face that way as Rhian came around the corner, and while she looked slightly flushed, he smiled upon seeing her, and walked to meet her.

"You look stunning, Rhian," he bowed to her.

"Thank you," she spoke softly as she curtseyed, and while she played demure well, he felt it was more of an uncertainty that kept her so reserved. "I am sorry to keep you waiting."

"I did not notice," he did not notice now, not when she was here. He offered his arm, and she rested her hand gently upon it. "Are you unwell, Rhian?"

"Perfectly well," she smiled more brightly to him. "Lady Ceara was most explicit in her details of my behavior," she confided.

Ewan rolled his eyes, his hand moving to rest over hers on his arm, "She can be a martinet that is for certain." He escorted her to the hall entrance and they walked in to the sounds of music and conversation, the dancing had begun, and he smiled to her reassuringly, "We will have an enjoyable evening."

Ewan felt so sure of himself this night with her there beside him, and he greeted those that approached him cordially, introducing Rhian to each in turn. He watched her steady composure, the sweet smile, and gracious expression when she returned the greetings.

To his most delighted relief, few of the court ladies who had sought his favor approached, but he could see some whispering to their companions at table. Of course, there was always a few too bold for their own good, including a particularly brassy young woman. Dark haired and dark eyed Eara Eavensdottir, a lady of high nobility, but lacking any of the manners required, approached Ewan with an unseemly smile and curtseyed, "Master Ewan, how good to see you again after so long."

Ewan bowed politely, but before he could turn and introduce Rhian, Eara interrupted, "And how sweet of you to bring the Baroness's lady in waiting to the ball. You always see to your duties well, but I hope that she will not keep you from enjoying yourself this evening."

Eara had the good fortune that Ewan was not able to singe someone into dust with a look, but she did catch the fierceness of his glare and took one step back. "Lady Rhian is my guest, Lady Eara, and as such the guest of the Baron and Baroness. My enjoyment of this evening entirely rests upon hers. Do excuse us," and he did not bow in his departure but walked with Rhian on his arm away from the stunned speechless Eara.

An apologetic smile to Rhian, but he did not mention the incident, only asked with a warming grin, "Shall we dance, my lady?"

He wished he could read that expression, how she looked back toward Eara who had huffed back to her friends at table and were all whispering once more. Then Rhian lifted those light hazel eyes to him. He could see some doubt there. "Come, dance with me," he lifted her hand to brush a kiss over the backs of her fingers, and then drew her into the pattern of the dance currently whirling over the dance floor.

Lucien leaned over the railing, letting the spray of saltwater hit his face. Cool gaze moved over the cold expanse of sea, taking in every wave born in the ship's wake. He breathed large gulps of the sea air and he felt his muscles stir with anticipation.

The helmsman was rising within the barrister.

He watched the crew move about on deck in their finely orchestrated chaos. He itched to jump in, to grab a line and help open the sail, to review the charts and plot the course, to grab the wheel and steer the ship to Yransea himself.

"Kom med meg, dreng, og vi vil bringe seilen ? liv."

A smile tugged upon the barrister's features. He could hear Tostig's voice over the sound of the winds filling the sails.

"Stanse!"

Guthorm's command echoed in his memory.

"Pull!"

Lucien's hands clenched, the right at his side, the left in his pocket, as if he was taking firm hold of the thick rope, the muscles of his arms and shoulders tensing as they had in the past, to raise the mast on the Sea Raven.

Alysia approached the railing, steadied herself against the motion of the ship by leaning against it. "Lucien?" she asked. Her voice was mostly lost under the sound of the wind snapping against the sails and melded timber and tar cutting through the icy sea. She watched his avid, lively expression, the hint of recollection held behind his cold blue eyes, and she smiled, gently speaking the barrister's name again.

A deep breath and the barrister pulled himself from his memories. There was a rich smile behind the man's neatly trimmed beard as he turned to the Priestess. Alysia raised her eyebrows with a look of playful, speculative teasing. His grip on the unseen rope eased and he reached to take her hand in his and press a kiss to it.

The Lady was fine and very pretty but beyond a brief glance as one would give someone who is beneath their notice as she approached; her eyes were only for Ewan. Rhian felt her cheeks flush at the slight.

Rhian maintained a smile, prepared to be gracious in meeting this daughter of a rich, if not noble house, measuring by the finery or her gown. Instead of the pleasantries to be exchanged at such a moment, Rhian gasped softly at the ?Lady?s? pointed insult disguised as a compliment to Ewan. Before she could even utter a word, Ewan?s strong voice interceded taking the Lady to task.

She only caught part of what Ewan said, so shocked was she at the inference that there is shame to be had in being a lady-in-waiting and that she could be considered no more than a mere servant who Ewan only attended to out of duty. Swept away before more words could be exchanged, Rhian?s brow knit in puzzlement and concern, her self-doubt rising to the invitation, as Eara swept back to her friends.

"Shall we dance, my lady?"

One look at his smile and her self doubt retreated.

?Yes.? Rhian smiled, ?Yes, I would like that very much.?

A flush of pride as he lead her onto the dance floor; Rhian?s steps were light, graceful and lively in the dance. She very nearly forgot about the rude lady until she caught sight of her and her company looking at her and whispering. Glad she did not misstep, Rhian pointed looked away from them, head high and determined to be above their snickering.

Burning to ask, ?Who was that Lady?? Rhian restrained herself. She did not want Ewan to think she was the slightest bit concerned; inwardly however, she felt she had made an enemy even though she had done nothing at all!

The dance came to an end much too soon for Ewan, and as tempting as it would be to ask for the next dance as well, he instead offered his arm and escorted her from the floor towards one of the tables where cheeses and breads were arrayed. He smiled to Rhian then turned searching for a servant with drinks. ?Red wine for you, Rhian?? He motioned to a passing serving girl who approached with a tray still containing a few goblets of wine of varying vintages.

He offered one goblet for her as well as gathered one for himself, taking a sip. Just as he lowered the goblet, he saw Princess Rian approaching and bowed until she spoke to him. ?Master Corinsson, a pleasure to see you,? her hand offered out to him.

He took the hand and bowed once more over the delicate fingers held gently. ?You look extremely well, Your Highness.? He turned to introduce Rhian, ?May I introduce Lady Rhian Owensdottir. Lady Rhian, the Princess Rian.?

?Rian and Rhian, we are well named, are we not?? The Princess smiled as Rhian curtseyed. ?Let me steal you away for a moment, Rhian, as I understand you are staying in Rhydin these days. Sylvia never tells me much of it, and Ewan is too cryptic in his answers.? She looped her arm with Rhian?s, evidently not brooking any refusal. But of all turns in the evening, the obvious acceptance of the Princess, one day to be queen, of Rhian Owensdottir was of high notice to many in the room. Ewan uncharitably thought of Rhian?s father, and how this news would please him. He shook the thought away from his mind.

Ewan smiled as he watched the Princess talk to Rhian as they walked to the high table, where her Highness welcomed the lady to sit with her and the Prince, who smiled at Rhian?s curtsey when she was introduced to him.

Kieran approached Ewan from across the way, ?What news in Rhydin? The same mayhem??

A bow to the Baron before he replied, ?For the most part, yes, though little of it touches the Manor or its occupants. The law firm has gone quiet for now, and other dealings of note is far south in the West End.?

?Plotting and scheming, as Via would say.?

?As do we,? Ewan offered.

?What of the Captain??

?We each keep our pretenses of distrust, though the Barrister and he are often seen in good company, so I wonder at why we must keep up this farce when they do not.?

?A question well worth an answer. Via has not offered one??

?She has not, nor am I sure she would have one to offer.? Ewan saw Sylvia approach and gave a bow.

?Don?t stop talking on my account,? she smiled as she looped her arm through Kieran?s.

The men just exchanged glances.

Sylvia's arrival gave Ewan the good excuse to depart the Kieran's company and go seek Rhian once again. She still sat at the head table, and Ewan arrived with a bow to their Highnesses. Maelgwn motioned for Ewan to approach, "Come man, reclaim your lovely lady for this evening, lest Rian talk the poor girl's ear off." The princess laughed merrily at her husband's jest but gave Rhian leave to go with pat of a hand and promise to speak with her more in the future.

Ewan bowed once again then offered his arm to Rhian, "Another dance, then, Rhian, as it seems to be the only place where I might have your attention." He grinned and guided her to the dance floor. This dance was of a more modern version, keeping couples close and they whirled about the floor. It also took them to the outside of the dance floor where all the dancers could be observed by those seated. Ewan noticed one man's eyes following Rhian. He tried to pull up a name from the many families of the land and it came to him like the heralding thunder of a storm: Cathal Ragnarsson.

He would not let that man's presence have the upper hand, and Ewan smiled to Rhian as he continued the dance.

Studious in casual lean at rail; keen are her eyes and ears as the Wren's crew go about their duties aboard ship. Each sailor is observed and measured, according to the Viking's own experiences and maritime standards as a Seafaring Warrior and Leader of a Longship from the Great Northlands of Norge.

The ship itself appears to be highly seaworthy as her light blue eyes sweep over the vessel from Bow to Stern, Fore and Aft. Sails and gear scrutinized equally, from top to bottom. Any loose items on deck are now battened down, as are the hatches. The bellowing of "Anchor's Aweigh!" brings forth a smile, lighting up her facial features, since she is anxiously awaiting to leave RhyDin's Port.

Elijah turned toward the man that called out the order and let out a breath. He hadn't intended to make his arrival at the ship so close to it embarking. He stepped aside, stumbling slightly as he tried to keep his feet, as one of the deck hands came through and watched the fellow move past quickly and intently.

Traveling across the waters can be highly dangerous, for more than one reason. Thoughts on whether any squall's or pirates shall be encountered during the voyage are pushed aside, for the time being, as the old ranch hand approaches the place where she stands.

"Ah! Eel-eye-ja, you managed not to be left on shore." Chuckles as she jests.

He replied with a quiet chuckle and a kiss to her cheek. "Yessum. Weren't going to let anything make me miss the boat." The old ranch hand took hold of the railing as he tried to keep his feet under him. He looked about, watching the crew with open fascination as the ship moved on from port. The lines about his weathered face deepened as his smile broadened, and he looked over at the seafarer to indicate a few things that struck his curiosity. "What are them fellas doing over there?"

Quick slide of gaze toward the busy crewmen. "They be doing their job, old mann." More chuckling as light blues came to rest upon the cowboy once again. Speaks what is uppermost on her mind. "Eel-eye-ja, I be concerned that you shall become ill during this voyage. Especially if the waters become rough. If your stomach begins to feel queasy, you shall tell me, ja?"

It was with relief and genuine warmth that Rhian smiled upon Ewan when he joined them. Taking the opportunity of the two men greeting each other, Rhian stepped away from Cathal and closer to Ewan. She sipped her wine and appraised them both.

Cathal, a son of a great house held himself with self assurance and no small measure of arrogance as is befitting one or his rank. Ewan also held himself proudly but not with arrogance. His manner was that of confidence born of experience and he radiated strength. It was not like Cathal?s aura where in he expected you to respect him, it was calmer; quiet sort of feeling, a strength that was comforting and attractive. When looking at Ewan you simple did respect him. Cathal was polite in his exchange with Ewan but it was not friendly. They both considered the other in a way she has seen dogs do when they first meet outside their own territories. It surprised her. Was it possible that Ewan favored her as much as she hoped? And Cathal, what game is he playing? His anger and disgust at her not so many months ago apparently forgotten? Her brows knit slightly at this thought; Rhian did not trust him. Where once she considered herself fortunate that a man of an exalted family would dain to take her hand in marriage she now considers herself more than fortunate to have escaped what would be sure to be an unhappy union.

Lost in her silent appraisal of the two men, to the benefit of one and the detriment of the other, Rhian was surprised by Cathal taking her hand to escort her to the dance floor. With barely time to set her wine glass down, she looked to Ewan forlorn.

Swirled into the dance, Rhian performed as she should; graceful and lithe she brought credit to herself and her partner. Her silence, however, was noted by Cathal, ?Am I not to be thanked, m?lady?? he queried in a teasing tone.

?Thanked?? Rhian?s tone betrayed her confusion.

?Of course.? He laughed, ?Are you not glad that I came to your rescue??

She blinked, ?What do you mean? How have you rescued me??

His smile held a predator?s edge, ?I swept you way lest you be forced to endure the company of that man.?

Rhian gasped at his audacity. ?I can assure you, Lord Cathal Ragnarsson, that I was in no need of rescue.? Her firm tone surprised him; he could feel her stiffen in her movements.

?Are you saying, dear Rhian, that you would have been content to dwell in the company of such a man??
?Master Corinsson is a good man and I am very fond of him.? Rhian asserted.

Cathal was silent for a moment, shocked at her brazenly stated preference. All too soon, his smile returned, leaning closer to her as they danced, he whispered, ?Poor Rhian. Is this what you have been reduced to? Seeking favor of a base-born servant? Was your heart so terribly broken when our engagement was called off??

Rhian?s shock was palpable; she stumbled.

?Do pay attention, Rhian.? Cathal chided with a smirk as he continued to lead her in the dance.

?I cannot believe you said that!? she hissed at him regaining her footing.

?Do not take it badly. I am sure you will master the courtly dance?.if you apply yourself.? He kept that teasing, sly, mocking tone.

?You know what I mean, Cathal! About Ewan! It was mean spirited and beneath you. You just met the man and know nothing about him!?

?Perhaps.? A superior smirk, ?But I do know you and I was right, wasn?t I? You can admit it after all, we were affianced.? He leans to her again, ?I admitted that I missed you?? Cathal coaxed, ?You can do the same. You can tell me you cried.? A seductive whisper, ?Perhaps I will promise to kiss all your tears away.?

?Lord Cathal!? Rhian gasped, ?You forget yourself!?

He laughed, ?But you have not forgotten me though you may deny it.? Cathal?s tone turns more serious, his eyes, smoldering with desire and promise, meet hers. It?s said that nary a lady in the realm could resist this gaze of his; Cathal was confident this simple country girl would melt with ease, ?Come Rhian, you are too lovely to be petulant. Let us start over and simply agree that we would have made a very pretty pair. We can build from there.?

?No, Cathal, I will not agree to such a thing!? Rhian fought to keep her voice low. She flashed a smile at another dancing pair as they passed on the dance floor. Her eyes, burning with fire, looked back into his, ?It became very obvious the first time we spent more than an hour or two together that we are not well suited. In fact, I consider myself lucky that we discovered it before we were wed!?

There was silence. Her words smacked him as heartily as if it had been her hand but Cathal never faltered in his step. ?I see. You sound very certain.? He observed coolly, ?We will have to change that attitude, won?t we??

With his words, the music stopped. Cathal bowed to her curtsey. Seizing her hand, he escorted her properly from the floor before she could storm off in a huff.

Without a word, Rhian curtseyed again and angrily swept herself away while he was still in mid-bow.

Cathal was not along for long as a friend of his joined him, ?Who was that pretty creature??

?Lady Rhian Owensdottir.? Cathal nonchalantly adjusted his sleeves; masking his angry annoyance admirably well.

?So that was the wild thing you were lucky to escape? I see what you meant when you said her looks easily over comes her lack in fortune. Too bad her looks can?t over come her base nature.?

?Quite so.? Cathal?s eyes tracked Rhian as she made her way through the crowd, ?Ah, look..is that not Lady Eara? You will excuse me, Dafyyd, while I enjoy the company of a real lady.? He winks to his friend before departing.

Furiously flustered is the only way to describe Rhian?s emotions. She could not believe how boorish and mean Cathal was. Such terrible things to say! Such mean things to infer about her. Intent on fleeing the room to compose herself, Rhian was brought up short as Darien crossed her path.

?Lady Rhian!? he cried with a bow, ?I hope I am not too late in securing a dance with you??

Rhian smiled brightly at this friendly face, she curtseyed nicely, ?I would be much honored to dance with you.?

Taking his offered hand, she returned to the dance floor determined not to allow Cathal to ruin this night.

Dancing with Darien was exactly what she needed. He is a sweet boy but not nearly as graceful on the dance floor as he is on the field of combat. Rhian was determined to politely ignore his first stumble but his short laugh and mischievous grin brought a laugh of her own. They were not halfway through the set that Rhian was in danger of being reduced to giggles at his charmingly boyish ways and humorous remarks.

The dark cloud that overshadowed her mood clearly dispersed as Darien escorted her from the floor. After some light and congenial conversation with the small grouping they joined, they parted company as she curtsied to his bow as he left her in the company of some of her friends.

Rhian was oblivious to the dark gaze that tracked her through the room. Subtle observations lost in social exchanges and sips of drinks; the hall was so large and so full of people and activity that if one?s attention seemed to be caught elsewhere it was hard to know by what or who exactly. Cathal was sly in his observations, never letting his eyes linger too long. He studied her and her friends. Other than the favoritism shown by their majesties, she did not seem to know many in attendance or far outside the Baron?s circle. Cathal admired her grace and easy manners and noted how well she integrated herself with those she just met. Excusing himself from his friends, Cathal stalked through the crowd toward Rhian. Like a deer spotting a wolf, Rhain?s smile faltered as her eyes caught his. A feral smile as he noted her eyes dip. Her attention suddenly called away as Ewan stepped close, addressing her warmly. The brightness of her smile nearly caused Cathal to cringe as she responded so affectionately to the Master of Arms; Cathal deftly altered his direction to take him to a banquet table as if it was his destination all along.

Sipping his drink Cathal could not deny his vexation. He was annoyed at himself for having any level of feeling related to that snippet but more he was annoyed with Rhian and the preference she so openly shows for that commoner. He could not reconcile her aversion to him and her preferences for Master Corinsson. Puzzling through this dichotomy, Cathal let his eyes linger too long on Rhian as she and Ewan moved once again to the dance floor. His annoyance grew with each demure smile she gave to Ewan. He felt the heat of his temper sparking as they danced closely enough to be still be decent but clearly with intimate familiarity.

?I see you are caught by that vision of loveliness.? Darien?s smiling voice interrupted Catha?s simmering reverie.

Darien didn?t notice the glare in Cathal?s eyes when his gaze snapped toward him. His own were set on Rhian as she danced with Ewan. Cathal quickly corrected his look to one of studied indifference, ?Ah, Lord Finnson, it has been too long.? he smiled in greeting, turning to offer a short bow, ?Of which vision do you refer for the floor is graced by so many.? With a sweep of his hand, Cathal referred to the dance floor.

?Too long indeed! Not since last fall at Lord Sigmundson?s hunt.? Darien smiled to his fellow noble before turning his gaze back to the dancing Rhian, ?And the vision I speak of, my friend, is the Lady Rhian Owensdottir. See her there, she is dancing with Master Corinsson.?

Cathal made a show of looking to where Darien indicated, ?Ah yes, a pretty creature indeed but perhaps a bit ?..rustic.?

Darien blinked in surprise, ?Rustic? Dear sir! She is no more rustic than the bloom of a delicate flower.?

?Perhaps,? Cathal conceded, ?It is the result of the company she keeps.? He was not successful in keeping a slight sneer from his voice.

This caused Darien to draw back; his spine stiffening, ?I do not understand you, Lord Ragnarson. The Lady is in the company of the honorable Master Corinsson. Perhaps you are unaware of him and his reputation.?

Cathal shifted to square himself to Darien, ?I am fully aware of who and what, Master Corinsson is, Lord Finnson.? A dangerous glint shines in his eyes, spoiling for a fight, ?A base born man well suited to the life of violence that is the basis for his fame, such as it is.?

?Sir, if I did not know you are better bred than this, I would almost think you are insulting a man I have great respect for and consider myself honored to serve with.?

A sharp laugh, ?Almost think? Why I say that could be your problem stated in a nutshell! Your almost thinking may allow you to think Master Corinsson is almost a gentleman!?

?You go too far, sir!? Darien?s face flushes; his hand reaches for his blade only to rest on hilt resisting the urge to draw it forth.