The day wore on and Ozragad did not seem to find a spare moment for himself amongst the madding crowd. There was always seemed to be someone who needed to speak with him. Another noble that just had to ingratiate themselves. Another petitioner that had to present their case to him that moment. Another adviser whispering some word of intrigue into his ear. None of this would ever be straight forward, they would never be direct and answerable with a simple yes or no. Instead they would draw out the agonising and irrelevant small talk, dance and allude to whatever it was they really wanted. 

It was draining as it was infuriating, but he knew it was his duty as King, so it bore it with as much grace as he could manage. What he wouldn't have given to be out on campaign with his army instead. [i][color=f7941d]An unlikely proposition for me for the foreseeable future if all goes as planned.[/color][/i]

Before he realised how late it was getting, Ozragad heard the clash of a gong from the wide corridor that led from the throne room to the great hall of the palace. The feast was already upon them. He made his excuses and marched off in that direction, leaving the half circle of sycophants around him scurrying to catch up in his wake. It almost drew a smile to the King's grim face. 

The great hall was not as long as the throne room, but it was wider. At the far end, beneath a series of arched windows, was a raised dais and a long table facing the rest of the hall. The high table was set for twelve, five to either side of a pair of high backed wooden chairs taller than all others, the two seats reversed for the King and his guest of honour. Beneath the dais were four even longer sets of tables and benches that ran the length of the hall, a space cleared in the middle of them for whatever entertainment would be occurring during the feast. 

There were ushers waiting at the doors to show guests to their seats, the arrangement for upper ends of the table having been pre-arranged. If he recalled correctly, as the guest of honour, the Princess would be sat immediately to his left. After her would be other highest ranking guests, his cousin Lady Cheldarine and her son Elethiomel, the Lady Blodwen, the Lord Belaphon, and a conspicuously empty seat. [color=f7941d][i]It seems that Lord Zakylwe will not be accepting my invitation in the slightest.[/i][/color] On the other side of the table were his most influential advisers, Manawyndan to his right, then Lady Arwan his Treasurer, Lord Urathon his Justicar and his wife,  and finally Iria his Chancellor.

Ozragad stood at the centre of the high table waiting for the hall to fill. Etiquette demanded that the highest ranked individual at the feast sat first, as King that was his prerogative here. [color=f7941d][i]Well, these fools have been wasting my time, its only fair I waste some of theirs in return.[/i][/color] He allowed for the room to fill and grow quiet before he finally seated himself. The hall followed the King's lead and sat down. 

Sound returned as the atmosphere relaxed and his guests began to talk amongst themselves once more. The first course began to be served, some kind of soup was brought out in a silver tureen along with platters of freshly baked bread. Ozragad signalled to his cup bearer to pour wine for both him and the Princess beside him. [color=f7941d][i]I imagine I will need a drink before this night is over.[/i][/color]

[color=f7941d][b]"So... "[/b][/color] He trailed off, letting his words hang in the air as he took a long sip from his goblet. [color=f7941d][b]"I trust your accommodation is suitable for the time being?"[/b][/color]