Ronin
Active Member
Robert gave Florianne an apologetic look. "She means well, madame. My dear mother simply has a very... unique understanding of honor and tradition." He glanced around the room. "Truthfully, she was against my joining the Order in the first place. Believed it was the firstborn's duty to continue the Arodring bloodline. She's very conservative in that way." He spied his mother across the room, chatting with the Gesatias. "...though in other ways, she is surprisingly progressive..."
He looked down at his armor. "Ah. I should change." He sniffed. "...and... shower. Quickly. Thank you, demoiselle. I'll see you soon. Benson!" He waived at a passing server. "Would you get demoiselle Nuvellon a drink, please?" The paladin hurried off.
A mustachioed server approached the necromancer. "Happy Genarium, madame. May I get you something? I would suggest one of our ciders or cocoas if you're cold - we've imported dark chocolate from Hafirjan. Splendid stuff. Or, if you'd like something stronger, we have an exquisite Anaaran vodka martini."
Rober parted from Florianne, weaving his way through the throngs people as he tried to escape. The large paladin could have easily pushed his way through the crowds, but instead he took great care not to nudge anyone. He wasn't entirely successful.
One of those he bumped into was one of the mystery guests, wearing the mask.
"I apolo-" he turned to face them, brows furrowing, "oh. I beg your pardon Have..." His head cocked, looking between the two arrivals. "...have we met? I thought I knew most of those my mother invitated. Their names, at least."
---
"Wonderful," Bernadette smiled, beckoning over a passing server. He bore a platter filled with steaming mugs made of fine-crafted clay. "This is Iverian mill-pressed cider, with Caranhall honey. Delightful taste. The orchards were bountiful this year." She looked over at a guest trying to get her attention. "Ah, you must excuse me. Please, enjoy yourself. If you require anything, do not hesitate to ask. Happy Genarium."
He looked down at his armor. "Ah. I should change." He sniffed. "...and... shower. Quickly. Thank you, demoiselle. I'll see you soon. Benson!" He waived at a passing server. "Would you get demoiselle Nuvellon a drink, please?" The paladin hurried off.
A mustachioed server approached the necromancer. "Happy Genarium, madame. May I get you something? I would suggest one of our ciders or cocoas if you're cold - we've imported dark chocolate from Hafirjan. Splendid stuff. Or, if you'd like something stronger, we have an exquisite Anaaran vodka martini."
Rober parted from Florianne, weaving his way through the throngs people as he tried to escape. The large paladin could have easily pushed his way through the crowds, but instead he took great care not to nudge anyone. He wasn't entirely successful.
One of those he bumped into was one of the mystery guests, wearing the mask.
"I apolo-" he turned to face them, brows furrowing, "oh. I beg your pardon Have..." His head cocked, looking between the two arrivals. "...have we met? I thought I knew most of those my mother invitated. Their names, at least."
---
"Wonderful," Bernadette smiled, beckoning over a passing server. He bore a platter filled with steaming mugs made of fine-crafted clay. "This is Iverian mill-pressed cider, with Caranhall honey. Delightful taste. The orchards were bountiful this year." She looked over at a guest trying to get her attention. "Ah, you must excuse me. Please, enjoy yourself. If you require anything, do not hesitate to ask. Happy Genarium."