Amber sat back in her throne. She was holding court, and listening to the local people's pleas or comments, as was customary to do once in a while. Next to her, in chairs of their own, the advisors stood watch, occasionally making a remark or giving a piece of advice. Her father had chosen them, but had told her not to trust them. The promise of gold makes even the most pious monk betray and connive, he'd said to her. Tomas seemed to agree with him, and often asked her to get rid of them. But she did rely on them. And after all, they were possibly both just being paranoid, as the kingdom was still standing and her heart still beating.

She sat quite comfortably with her legs crossed, leaning on one arm to the side of her throne. In her free hand she held a chalice of wine, which she occasionally took sips out of and otherwise swirled around. Habits picked up from watching her father do the very same thing while holding court. She hoped she looked presentable, as she had spent quite a long time getting ready to appear in public. She'd let her auburn hair fall down to her shoulders, and was wearing her leather tabard and boots, as usual. The nuns in the palace kept trying to convince her to wear a dress, but she found them uncomfortable and unempowering. She heard the clink of metal and footsteps from outside, and the door opened. A guard ran in and bowed.

[b]"Milady, Gregor the Oakheart of [i]House Weade[/i] is here to see you."[/b]

[b]"Bring him in then,"[/b] she said. The guard next to her nodded and walked towards the now thin line of farmers, the metal of his armour clinking, filling the empty sound of the courtroom. He made them clear to the side to wait for the arrival of the Lord. Not many people had showed up that day. In the audience she could see a few barons, some close friends, guards, and of course, Tomas. He looked bored, scratching his beard. She had told him he didn't have to come, as she knew it bored him, but he had insisted. He could be so stubborn. He seemed more interested in the young widowed Marquess next to him, who was blushing, than the arrival of the Lord.

Gregar walked in. [b]"Lady Rossric,"[/b] he said, his lips forming into something he perhaps thought was a smile. It was a false smile, that was for sure.[b] "The last time I saw you, you were throwing a temper tantrum at your father."[/b]

She saw Tomas raise an eyebrow out of the corner of her eye. She smiled, remembering the incident. She would have been around five, making him seven or eight.

[b]"And you fell off your horse while learning to ride,"[/b] a poor comeback, as she couldn't ride either, but that day had made her giggle so much that she remembered it vividly.

She saw Gregor look around the room. He was making eye contact with most of the people in the court. He was quite handsome, she thought. He was broad shouldered and had a handsome face, though it was lined with hard work and sleeplessness. She had seen this in her own father, the same restlessness. Especially in the eyes.