[h2][center][color=aba000]Ar Rathmore[/color][/center][/h2]
[hr]
Ar was pleased to see more guests arriving. It was just what he wanted to see. More faces from far across the lands come to dine in the company of the King and watch metal scrape into metal as the joust would go on. Almost as exciting to him as the people were the horses arriving, the swiftest breeds each of the houses could pick. He was looking forward to his next chance to ride, though he was glad he could become relish the headiness of intoxicant and celebration for the time being. 

Ar maintained his conversation with his Queen, inclining his head a little as he spoke, causing his hat to cast shade over his brow and upper eyelids. [color=aba000][b]”Yes my Queen, though not a Rathmore lad… My girl has an interest herself in someone, and I don’t feel the need to marry her in a ploy for power. Better that she explores her own interests for now since her duty to her family is essentially fulfilled. She brings joy to our faces, ever since the day she was born, and what more could we ask of her? She’s hardly had time to know even half of the joys or perils of this world. Though at times it seems time is running away from us…”[/b][/color] Another inevitable poke at the hours waning away for all involved here. Ar couldn’t help himself, everyone in his family was far too patient. Though here and there was the one who would become impatient, and end up sowing discord for it… Ar ran through a list in his head in the blink of an eye, documenting the position of his fellow Rathmore’s and what they were up to that day. [color=aba000][b]Like picturing planets revolving around the sun, all aspiring to usurp it's position at the center.[/b][/color] He thought to himself. It was the Spymaster’s duty to pick up on whispers, and more often than not what one would whisper contains their greatest ambitions. Ar moved his sleeves further up his arms and drizzled sauce from a gravy boat onto his stuffed meats. 

[@HushedWhispers]