[table][row][/row][row][cell][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/U9kwQtG.png[/img][/center][/cell][cell]
[color=#50b0f1][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/pfzut90.png[/img][/center][/color]
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[indent][sup][color=#EEDC5B]Attire:[/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/qr0eysM.png]Tunic[/url]
[color=#EEDC5B]Interaction(s):[/color] Wulfric Danrose [@SilverPaw], Wystan Blackmane [@mantou]
[color=#EEDC5B]Mention(s):[/color] Harper and Clive, rest of the party-goers.
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[/indent]To say last night was a disaster would be the understatement of the decade. A large number of the party attendants were rushed into their medical ward. Some form of concoction was taken en-masse causing a wonderful variety of effects. Although he wasn’t entirely blindsided by the occurrence. Clive had reached him whilst he conversed with Harper. It was a quick report, one that managed to anger him… Although he managed to keep his emotions in check.

As the nobility poured in, Auguste’s eyes trained on his siblings. His head throbbed, his mind relapsing to the day of Anastasia’s kidnapping. He followed Wulfric’s lead, and although a tad rough on Callum, Auguste could not blame his brother. [color=#EEDC5B][i]”Brother…”[/i][/color] He started but stopped. Wulfric’s fury would remain unabated, in times like these it was best to give him space.

Auguste would spend his energy on assisting where needed and overseeing the ward, unable to sleep.

Auguste looked disheveled. Although not a stranger at carrying himself through exhaustion, a keen eye could tell the prince has barely had a wink of sleep. His eyes were sunken in, his countenance less refined and crafted, and a weak gait. Perhaps he managed a couple of minutes of sleep every other hour or so. He hadn’t left his office since assisting the medical ward.

Auguste wore the same linen attire as yesterday. He had fetched for a [url=https://i.imgur.com/hhGOlgY.png]black tunic[/url], laced with a golden thread. This tunic hung around his shoulders, as he contemplated last night’s events.

A clean plate and a finished cup of coffee… or three laid on the tray atop his desk. Auguste’s hand remained firmly on his temple. He worried deeply for his siblings and the other attendants. The biting worry of the political ramification of such an event lingered in the back of his mind, although assuredly, a lesser worry.

The biggest worry was who in their right mind would inebriate or poison nobility. While aware of such a party, he should have placed higher stock over that event. It could have cost him his siblings lives. Identification of the perpetrators was at the forefront of his mind.
Three rhythmic thumps sounded against his door. [color=#EEDC5B]”Come in.”[/color] The familiar figure of Wystan entered his office. Auguste greeted him with a short, tired smile. An unintentional, barely restrained expression of fury now masked his features. [color=#EEDC5B]”Although I have received a preliminary report… [b]What the hell happened last night, Wystan?[/b]”[/color]