[b]Monavdu, Aylsfyne[/b]

The many smells of dinner filled the cavernous hall. Many brazers lined the walls, filled with the warm light of fire as smoke trailed up into the great vaulted stone ceiling. Heavy banners flowed and swayed gently in the rising heat from these iron hearths. Breathing as one as a cool evening breeze bellowed through the hall.

At the hall's center, a great table spanned the length, though only partially uses. At the far end an assortment of candlesticks had been laid out. The light tongues of flame shining off the deep red finish of the carved wood table as servants scoured around its edge, laying out onto it a buffet of meats and dried fruits. A barrel of mead was carried in and placed upon its furthest used edge, accompanied by a number of dark-tin cups.

Glass vases filled high with milk was set upon the table, alongside bottles of dark rich liqueurs that smelled rich of vanilla bean.

The hall began to fill with the aromas of the smoked and prepared dinner laid out for the masters of the house to arrive. A large cut of meat glazed with honey and syrup sat at the middle of the table, its sweat sticky finish shining with dimpled reflections of the candles. Silver trays of cut and dried pieces of fruit were spread out, the small slices arranged to resemble that of the sun that set below the horizon. Two healthily lumped plates of fat, round, pieces of bread sat at either end, they themselves glazed richly and shone with a tender sweetness.

And as the first tenant of the great house of Enywyr strode into the room, the already silent chamber fell deeper back. Coming into a state of reverent cautious silence as Malius Enywyr made his entry. His gait was short and soft, barely disturbing his long flowing coat as he glided smoothly over the worn stone-work below him.

He looked at the succulent spread with an expression of distant wanting. The tantalizing smells of the salted and smoked meats and fruits filling the room with a sort of healthy glow that warmed his nose. But he knew full well what he was to eat as his attention drifted to the plate of bread on the furthest edge. There a silver plate had been laid out before a richly decorated, golden trimmed chair. His servants knew too well his dining, and withheld from the lord his utensils. A crystal glass of water was already placed in waiting as Malius took his seat, waiting patiently for the rest of his number to arrive.

On his heels came his wife. With energy she came to the table. At her side the young Bern kicked his way to the table; his face scrunched in a silent anger; Malius did not wish to bother with the trivial elements that had managed to anger is youngest.

And at the other hand was a taller and agile built young man. Blonde hair fell from the top of his head in a halo of gold that glowed in the subtle fire-light of the hall. Like-wise, his tan complexion glowed a softer orange in the candle light. His blue eyes looked upon the spread with a happy, content energy. It was the king's second son, prince Crafus. A young man at the age of fifteen with a blessed fairness he could have only gotten from his mother. Malius knew him as a boy who could have anything if he asked for it, but he did not.

Malius greeted them with tired arms as they took their seats closest to him, Crafus leaving a seat between him and his father open.

Behind them a lingering son of Malius entered. Dressed still in a chain mail byrnie, covered only by a fur and silk over-coat to make him presentable at the table was the son Caerl. A man built like a bear and his face equally attractive to one. Broken scars from tourneys and chasing bandits wrung his once youthful face to make him ten years his senior. Short, dark-blonde hair sat brushed across his scalp. A hungry smile came his tan face as he saw the prepared meal. The enthusiastic expression to eat not slipping from his face as he took his seat nearest to his father and across from his mother.

“I see you've been busy.” Malius commented in a quiet tone as his eldest took a seat.

“I have.” he remarked simply.

“Could I ask what for?” the king inquired.

“I was merely settling a score with the sword.” Caerl said, “I had disarmed my challenger shortly after receiving the message it was time to eat.”

“Another day in the life of Caerl.” Crafus commented with a leering smile. The comment was not returned as the elder began to wait patiently, drumming his fingers on the hard wood as the king's court shuffled in as a group.

Veada made the proud lead of the meager group of chancellors and attendants. Behind him the large and fat Bod Bord with his considerably double chin and balding head; a man who if he had been conceived by a crueler deity would have had a pointier head given his plump proportions. At his side Asdebad Uthig, a man as old as the missing Skullding, but with a beard and hair thicker and scragglier than the wizard himself.

A man as straight as a board came in through the edges, carrying under his robed arm a tome. Above the collar of his cotton dress rested a tall narrow head possessing abilities that could have rivaled Veada for finding things he shouldn't know. A pale ghost with muddied hair, lord Byron Cern. And with him a guest of his own, a fair lady who Malius had not gotten the name of, though there were many girls comparable in the halls of the castles who saw to the needs of the keep's inhabitants.

The court took their respective seats, looking down at their king expectantly. With a flat unglazed look he gave a soft nod, raising his arms to invite them. “You have my blessing to eat.” he said.

The table nodded in compliance, and the clicking of utensils and the sawing of meat sounded in the quiet vaulted expanse of the dining hall as the men went to work on their dinner. As the table piled onto their plates what the intended to eat Malius leaned back and watched as the glasses filled and plates took on a new topography.

“I had heard you had entered into a duel with Ashtra Beada, master Caerl.” Bod Born said from the far-end of the table as he filled a glass with milk from a pitcher. A bottle of vanilla liqueur sat nearby in expectation, “If I had heard earlier I would have made note to be present. But alas I was occupied. How did the duel go?”

“It went well.” an enthusiastic Caern said with a wide smile, “I may have bruises on my arms by tomorrow morning, but I had him speaking for his disrespect as I disarmed him there with my own blade.”

“I should think no significant harm came to him?” Malius inquired.

“He made only have a broken thumb, but the surgeons will have seen to it.” Caern smiled gleefully.

“Then a honorable fight.” Born boomed in a jovial voice as he poured the vanilla liqueur into his glass of milk.

“On the topic of honorable endeavors,” started Malius, “Is there then any new reports on the pirates off the western gold sound?”

“I have dispatched an envoy to lord Brackrest of Stolehold to that effect,” Born said, “sending note and the approved loan sum for him to put into combating them. I have as well written I will see to it we will supplement his efforts with our own resources in short time, should it be allowed.”

“We will need to discuss it at a later date, if Byron will find the time tomorrow.”

“Don't worry your honor, I shall.” lord Byron said quietly from the far-side, “The terrace then, as usual.”

“It depends on the weather.” Malius responded, reaching for his glass of water. Taking a sip from the glass he turned to Bern, “I have been seeking for a suitable guardian for your education.” he said, sparking the attention of the young boy from a rather large cut of sweat glazed bread, “And I have elected to put you under the tutorship of Lord Wen.”

Bern looked up at his father with a stunned distant expression. “L-lord Wen?” he said staggering.

“Yes.” Malius said, “As a fore-note I will be writing him tomorrow to inform him, on his reply you shall be heading to the Gotkeep.”

“But I don't want to go to Westshjore!” Bern shouted loudly, bringing sudden shocked looks to the prince's way.

“Where would you rather be?” Malius asked in that same cool, gravely voice.

“Why not Theodocis!” the boy shouted loudly, his voice crackled and strained as he shot up from his chair, knocking it to the stone floor, “I wanted to be with Theodocis! WHY CAN'T I!?”

Malius didn't treat him with an answer, instead treating him with sour disapproving silence as he looked out over the full table to his angered son. Heat boiled inside the boy, making his face glow red. He balled his fists angrily as he glared at his father, scowling. “I don't like old cursed men like he!” he boomed loudly.

“Dear, you never even m-” Engela said, trying carefully to reconcile her son back to civility so he would sit down. Her voice was stressed and cracked, knowing full well all eyes were on them. But she was interrupted rudely by her own son.

“NO!” he screamed, “I DON'T WANT TO!” he roared, tearing himself out of his mother's reach as he backed off.

Turning on his father he rose the half-eaten piece of bread. With a short quick throw he shot it off through the air. He turned to run for the door, breaking out of the room as the large chunk of bread hit the king on the forehead. He retained a non-flinching expression as it came to rest in his lap.

“And he will go without eating.” he said in a low voice. “Forgive Bern's temper this evening.” he added, apologizing to the table.