[center][@Wisp] [@Cubix] [@urukhai] [@AimeChambers][/center]

	Running her fingers through the curtain’s lines, Adeline’s worries started to pile. It felt as if every minute of thought was running through a list of ‘what-if’ scenarios, attempting to shake her out of attending the meeting. Perhaps the thoughts were a sign of not to go, but she had pushed them aside. Trust Valentine, she told herself, and do it for your parents – your mother, your father, your sister, and your brother. Well, perhaps her brother wouldn’t care as much, but she wasn’t certain if he would care either. She didn’t know him well enough to be certain about her speculations on him.

	Her head turned at the moment she was addressed. There was her brother, standing tall and patient with a smile and mourning colors. Adeline was sure that she did not disclose her clothing decision with her servants today, but perhaps he had the same idea as her. She returned his smile, though weaker and fainter than ever before. Then, she looked upon the letter on the desk, then back at Auberon.

	“Yes, I have,” Adeline gently said, “I will be attending the meeting. I trust you will be as well?” A part of her had the impulse to smile a bit more due to her word choice, knowing that she just reflected a bit of her brother’s. It was humorous to her for the moment, but her lips returned to a weak smile.  She then looked towards the door. 

	Entering the room first were Olifina and Hadrian, who bowed as they entered. It seemed that at the very moment they entered the room, Adeline made a partial change in tone, only a touch more cheery in sound than speaking with her brother. “Please, have a seat if you wish. Our discussion will begin shortly, and it won’t take long.” She looked up to Auberon, “Is that correct, Auberon?” She had hoped as well that since she summoned the persons in the room she would be the one leading the discussion.  

	In a short while after, Adeline heard a knock on the door, and a familiar voice. Ah, yes, Rancor was now present. “Permission to enter granted, Rancor,” Adeline had raised her voice just to be heard from beyond the door. She stayed at her desk however, expecting him to enter through after giving him permission. “Seat yourself if you wish,” Her voice became quieter, and back to being gentle, “It’ll only be a moment’s time.”

[hr]

	Caught by surprise, Daniella and Lance’s conversation ended shortly with the king’s presence. This caught both the bishop and warrior by surprise, though startling Lance into a panic more than anything else. For a moment, he thought he was getting in trouble, and then how would he explain himself? He wouldn’t had, he’d just accept the punishment to come for slacking off. Then he’d probably proceed to watch Daniella become excused from her bishop position, considering that, for all he knows, she doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut. 

	Lance nodded towards King Fairchild, and said, “Will do, your royal majesty.” With that, Lance left with haste, leaving a baffled Daniella behind. She was under a particular spell of confusion from the moment she looked upon King Fairchild. His skin, appearance, and activity caught her attention like ever before. It was strange to say that he appeared younger than her or Lance. Was it the lack of sunlight or perhaps this new preference of chamomile over jasmine? Daniella didn’t have a clue about tea but she would be damn to learn that chamomile held magical properties for one’s appearance. She chuckled none of the less, though was quick to clear her throat and follow Caymdahr.

	Daniella’s robes flowed with her movement, dressed in the colors white and accented green, carrying her crosier in one hand. Her hands gloved, her head high, and her blue eyes would stare upon those who she and the king passed by. They had similar expressions as well, or at least those she caught an eye on.  Maybe it’s been awhile since she’s seen the king – yeah, that’s a good sturdy assumption, and the best one to use to keep herself from asking the king any questions about it. Though, if he had found a fountain or fruit of youthfulness, he wouldn’t tell her anyways. 

	Entering the throne room, Daniella remained attentive and took the letter from Caymdahr, then started to skim it. The letter did catch Daniella by surprise, her eye brows raised, and she looked back towards Caymdahr and his rose. Then, she returned back to the little, now reading it under her breath. Mouthing every word presented to her eyes. At first, her face read with confusion, but it all became clear to her as she looked back towards King Fairchild upon his throne.

	“Your Majesty,” Daniella started in a calm tone, “I think that King Valentine is, to say, out of his mind to believe that all parties will sit together willingly for a meeting. Given our past relation with them, and theirs’ with the Kingdom of Michael, and furthermore ours with the Kingdom of Michael, King Valentine is either wishfully thinking or desperate for discussion. It has been awhile since the three kingdoms have corresponded though. If the information is so important to be discussed, I do not understand why King Valentine did not disclose it. By the choice of words and handwriting though, this letter does seem important…” She breathed in, holding back snarky remarks and jokes towards the fellow kingdoms in her statement. “An importance that should be attended to by any means necessary.” 

	She nodded her head towards Caymdahr as she finished her statement. “May I ask for your thoughts, your Majesty?” She held a smile towards him, eyebrows perked with interest, as she returned the letter to him. Daniella held onto her crosier tightly, her eyes still on the king. While she was tuned in to hear him, she couldn’t help but wonder about his youthful appearance, and how the other monarchs would react to this.

[hr]

	Lance stormed through the castle, his feet quick to find Ainsley. He knew very little about the servant other than key parts of his appearance: mid-twenties, hair down to the neck, and with a charming appearance. Or handsome, beautiful, whichever the word was? For a servant, he was. The king looked quite youthful himself, handsome and young again, though Lance was sure that he was older than Ainsley… Wasn’t he? Maybe he was recalling Caymdahr’s old man Tenebris, but Lance was sure he enlisted five years ago during Caymdahr’s rule.

	Oh, of all things that seemed to be slipping from his mind. He’ll have to take more study into the kingdom’s history again. That wouldn’t be yielding him any promotion soon, not that the current task would either. Even if fetching Ainsley didn’t yield the promotion of Lance’s dreams, he was going to perfect the task to a t. If Lance does, who knows, maybe Ainsley will perfect his task to a [i]tea[/i]. He proudly smiled to himself as he proceeded down the halls.

	Now, if Lance was a servant, where would he be at this time of day? Working most likely, because servants rarely slept, right? However, the question of where one would be working came into play. He started going up and down the halls of the castle, knocking and asking at every other door for Ainsley,  but no matter what the or lack of answer was there was no Ainsley. Alright, so, what other place would a servant be at? The kitchen – of course! He had hoped the servant would be there. 

	Reaching the kitchen, Lance stared into the room, eyes scanning around. “Ainsley, you here?” Lance inquired. “The king seeks your presence and tea.” He then cleared this voice and recalled the words Caymdahr said, something about a preference.  “Chamomile this time, not that awful jasmine.”  Lance lingered in the room, unwilling to go just yet. Perhaps he can walk back with the servant to strike up a conversation about the king and his appearance. Ainsley would have to have some idea, wouldn’t he? Though, considering that a king may not be that close with his servant, Lance would be wrong. It was worth a shot.

[hr]

	The girl’s face lit up the moment he spoke. She had expected him to speak, but his words swept her feet. She refrained from smiling as much as possible, forcing her words to come out. 

	“We have. The seal has become weak, capable of being broken within hours,” Lenore confidently spoke. She waved her hair over her shoulders, pushing most of it back other than her bangs. “I am glad to hear.” Lenore didn’t have a clue of how the kingdom was a century ago, but hearing that the progress was made by her own doing would be something that she would be glad of. If it wasn’t for the kingdom’s system of battle and cruelty, why, she would boast about it. However, the last thing she would want is a beheading for claiming too much credit. Lenore didn’t know the current king as well, but knew one thing true for all monarchs in the kingdom – they’ve acquired their thrones through barbaric ways. 

	Lenore dared not push her luck any further as to continue speaking about her accomplishments. Though she would like to, she wouldn’t wish to have the worst punishment for doing so: death. Not upon herself or Ichabod, though suppose it’d be alright if a servant’s head or two rolled to the floor.

	“Ichabod,” She stated clearly, in hopes of occupying his attention, “This feat would not have been as easily accomplished without yourself or your capabilities.” She felt as if the statement spoke for itself. If it wasn’t for Ichabod there would be far more wasted units. That wasn’t a concern for the Kingdom of Lucifer, but was important for Lenore that as many resources should be used as possible. What would be better than reusing a resource after all? Though a corpse wouldn’t stand as long as a living creature, it provided effective enough during the seal weakening for Lenore to notice. She kept her arms wrapped before her, holding onto her books as she passed the time with small talk.