Isolde found herself smiling through her teeth as the raucous bunch partied away their meal. Though she herself did enjoy celebration, she'd just recently lost her crown, her home, and hired only a meager defense of fifty people for garrison against the entire royal army. This wasn't a time for celebration before she'd even made certain she wouldn't wake to find an army at her doorstep.

For God's sake, they'd even brought their own personal bards.

She made a mental note to have guards escort the prostitutes off the premises in the morning. After this, she'd probably have to get rid of extra servants as well, unfortunate but necessary expenditures as they were. She only hoped the mercs she'd hired were actual professionals.
In the meantime, she eyed over her bodyguards for any noteworthy members. The one that stood out most was arguably the stark naked savage. Isolde wasn't actually sure whether he was a soldier at first. She'd read stories of mad warriors who were brave enough to fight with exposed loins, but this was her first time seeing one. He was probably their strongest warrior. An excellent champion, should the need arise.
The second one to catch her eye was an especially old man with a snowy white beard. He seemed rather disgruntled, perhaps a little depressed, not speaking with anyone. Still, to have fought as long as him without dying or retiring meant he must have easily been the most experienced warrior. She wondered why he wasn't this army's commander. He still had enough of an air about him to be worth talking to later, at least.
And then there was their leader, a man introduced to her as "Gnarl". Isolde noted him as a haughty man. Of course she'd knighted none of them, and working for her did not equate to knighthood. That wasn't an honor she'd freely pass away. His speeches could have used some work as well.
The rest of their band were a collection of gritty, metal covered men and women. In all, they appeared to be an ornery band of ruffians intent on blowing their money before marching to their deaths at her brother's hands. But they were [i]her[/i] ruffians now, and she wouldn't allow that. Isolde leaned back, and entwined her fingers. By God she'd find a way to get her crown back, and she'd do it with the sweat, blood, and plenty of tears from these men.
Isolde spent the rest of the evening in silence, watching the party with a soft, if troubled smile.

-------------------------------

The queen picked her head up off the desk in her quarters, one strewed with ledgers, papers, notes and books. She pulled a piece of parchments off her face, and recognized it by the list of staff cuts she'd written down the night before. She'd have to announce them that afternoon. Isolde leaned back in her chair, and put on a pair of reading glasses. She supposed there'd be time to alter it with reason, but doubted anything notable would happen by then.
Still, she thought, the remaining staff might be disheartened by learning they were being fired for being lazy and promiscuous. She just couldn't afford poor workers at this rate however; her coffers were finite.
Steadying her resolve, Isolde stood up, and gave a big smile as she pounded a fist in her palm. Every day from now would be a scramble to get keep this castle in perfect shape!