They were envious of him. Wilhelm could sense it, could smell it in the air and feel it on his back as a multitude of Drakken glared at him. They were angry. Enraged, some of them. The younger ones, he knew, would direct their hatred at him. They would blame him for taking their prize, curse his name and form and line for slighting them in such a manner, place all responsibility as far removed from themselves as was conceivable. A foolish error of youth. Perhaps some who had reached their age would also harbor such fallacies. But the wise and the knowledgeable... they would be angry for a different reason. A superior reason. They would direct their wrath toward themselves, bring plagues upon their own houses for their hesitation, their cowardice, both for not seizing the opportunity to claim the Gem Princess for themselves and for failing to rise up and challenge him. But this came as little surprise.

What did arrest Wilhelm's attention, however, was the string of words that the Princess declared to the room. She had detected the wrath that had risen toward him, and within mere moments had sought to turn it to her advantage. She was a shrewd one, to say the least. And shrewdness was something Wilhelm the Black found admirable. For her gesture, Annayeva IV only earned a sharper, more wicked grin from her newly appointed lord husband. His eyes, colored a red so deep it could be mistaken for black, seemed to be partially illuminated with amusement and a sadistic delight. His instincts had never failed him, and here the fruits of their labor was shown. The girl would make for a splendid wife.

For the moment, however, it seemed one Drakken seemed to want to rise to the occasion of her words. While Lugft was making every attempt to show himself as stately and under control, and by and large succeeding, his words still rang with barbaric hostility. Wilhelm's smile vanished at his remarks, slung toward the Princess as though she had deeply wounded him. To be so easily riled was a shame on the House of Huron, made only moreso by the man's great strength and prowess in combat. Strength of body and weakness of mind made for a disastrous combination, the elder Drakken thought to himself.

Almost on cue there came the sound of another Drakken entering the verbal fray. A white-haired boy who was not half Wilhelm's own age was descending the stairs. The Lord of the Ebon Cliffs did not need to hear the nickname to know who he was. The swagger with which he walked, as though trying to reflect the candlelight in the hilt of his sword from every possible angle, was evidence enough. Wilhelm knew that arrogance intimately; it had been far worse before he had beaten some of it out of Rynek. And much like Lugft Huron, the Prince took up berating and belittling the Princess and her ploy. 

It was a farce, every line of it. And Wilhelm the Black was as far from laughing as could be.

[color=ed1c24][b]"Silence."[/b][/color] His word came over the air like a whisper, yet it echoed from the stones as though shouted in a canyon.

[color=ed1c24][b]"If either of you wishes to challenge me to combat for my bride,"[/b][/color] he continued as his hand came to rest on the hilt of his blade, [color=ed1c24][b]"Then stake your contest. If not, [i]then step away.[/i]"[/b][/color]

Once more, hesitation and cowardice reigned in the hall as rage turned to apprehension and fear of what might come. Lugft would fold easily enough, he presumed; had he sought to challenge him, he would have done so rather than rail against the Princess. And Raynik... Raynik knew better than to face Wilhelm and his mastery of air and flame in an enclosed space and still recovering from the sting of war. This was why Wilhelm the Black was considered the strongest Drakken. It was not because of some superior physical ability or abnormal power, but because of his conviction; he did not doubt, he did not hesitate, he did not fear. The sharpness of his physical sword paled in comparison to the bladed edge of his sheer presence and force of will, both of which could bisect a man far faster than any metal. Almost all of his duels had been won with these weapons, his opponents felled before they even drew steel. 

As other gems drew the attention of the Drakken, Wilhelm turned his head about the hall again. He had chosen his bride, that much was certain, but his instincts called to him for something else. Off to one side, alone after the choosing, stood a single Gem who seemed to be drawing small amounts of power and sturdiness from the ground. Though she lacked the Princess' grace and regal bearing, she still stood with her own form of resoluteness. Intrigued, Wilhelm beckoned to her.

[color=ed1c24][b]"You there. Gem of the Earth. Come to me. Let me see you in finer detail."[/b][/color]

When he had examined her, Wilhelm smiled again.

[color=ed1c24][b]"Very good. I shall claim you as well. But not as a Bride. No... I would have you as an attendant to my wives. A servant to them, to care for them as I dictate. But you shall hear more of this as we journey to my estate. For now, I would know your names."[/b][/color] 

[@Feisty-Pants][@agentmanatee][@NarcissisticPotato][@my Lalia]