In any normal occasion, Craggard would have happily accepted any meal the Lady Zecorra had to offer. The threat of death had thwarted his appetite. As he pulled up a chair, he waved away a hovering servant with a small cart of food. The usual excitement that came with a good meal had vanished, and he saw no reason to eat when he felt so sick. It wasn't the idea of killing the confederates that disturbed him- Craggard had watched plenty of his men march into the mines dutifully, only for a handful of them to crawl back out, soot in their eyes and ears and nose, with no ore at all. And this had never bothered Craggard, because death was part of the job, and his workers and their families knew that. But coming to the Grimm Castle wasn't supposed to be an affair of death. And there was no backing out now- he had already agreed to Lord Grimm's little game. As angry as he was, he was grudgingly impressed by how easily he had enticed Craggard and others like him to fall bait for the promise of glory.
The only way to survive, really, was to be a willing player of this game. Alright, you masked bastard. I'll play your game without question now, but after I win, I'm going to go back to being pissed.
The nobleman pulled up a seat among his fellow Onxyites, sitting just across from a rather tall, spindly man, scars decorating the left side side of his face. He recognized the fellow- although the name escaped him. It didn't matter anyway- the man across from him, hunched over and staring straight down at a hunk of bread, looked quite intimidating. Craggard cleared his throat.
" Lost your appetite?" He commented towards the warrior. The man grunted in response. Deciding he wasn't worth striking up a conversation with, Craggard turned his attention elsewhere. The table was long, thin, and a tight fit for both the Empire and the Confederacy to squeeze into. He wondered if this was done on purpose, to further stir the uneasiness between the two parties. His eyes settled on Lazy Grimm, seated at the head of the table with the two knights at her side. He stared intently at the two knights, trying to decide if their elven features were really genuine. Craggard didn't actually know much about dark elves- they were supposed to be bad luck, or at least that was what he had heard. He also noticed two empty chairs- perhaps belonging to the Grimm daughters? He hoped so- the nobleman was itching to speak with at least one of the Grimms directly, more out of morbid curiosity than anything else.