[center][h2]Sapiliezen Hill[/h2][h3]Early morning[/h3][/center][hr]Myrrhis accepted the refreshments with an appreciative nod of her head, savoring the flavor of oranges and cinnamon. Gordon for his part furrowed his brow, caring little for the taste of dried tree bark in his food and drink, but contained his displeasure and continued taking small courtesy sips.

The Elf would have intervened when the argument came to fists, but fisticuffs turned into a stabbing before she could set her cup down. Normally that wouldn't have been a concern, had she and Gordon not been asked to leave their weapons with a guard a few doors earlier before meeting with the Emperor. What a shame, that, for the desire to beat some manners into the Duke with the hilt of a sword was great and growing further with each word out of his mouth. The voice of dissent from the crowd did not bode well either. It was up to the ruler to ensure the nobility did not abuse their power at the nation's expense, and while Threndel’s instability was nothing new, Myrrhis couldn't fathom why someone would disrespect the emperor this openly in his court white expecting help with their grievances. She wasn’t familiar with the full story of how the current Emperor came upon the throne, but surely two years were enough time to get situated.
“This is [i]common[/i] here?” Gordon wondered, “Fighting in court?”
“Not quite the court experience I intended. I suppose today, the student learns alongside the master.” Myrrhis shook her head, lowering her voice to a whisper. “The palace guard could also use some attention. I've seen the innkeeper in Lannion step in to break up worse brawls with more gusto.” Here, a man with a bloodied knife was still unrestrained.

With the Emperor's approach, the Knight and the Squire set down their cups - the Squire with delight as the cinnamon tearror had come to an end - and stood, bowing once more. The Emperor's blunt honesty was about as expected as rain from blue skies, Myrrhis having expected him to play it off as court entertainment or something of the sort. “Your Majesty, I have been summoned to present a report regarding the unfortunate desertion at the Yllaren garrison.” She said in an appropriately apologetic tone while producing the summons letter from a belt pouch, forgoing introductions assuming someone had told the Emperor whom he was meeting on a given day and bracing to deal patiently with the derisive comment she expected from the stab-happy duke given his speech about marshaling more troops.