Standing there in his fashionable attire, a vest that accentuated his shoulders and a swept cloak of red that clung to his raised right arm, Galt made quite the count. His black hair was untidy, but in an attractive way, thanks to one of the king's courtiers fixing him up and Galt subsequently messing it up in his own fashion. It gave him a new, roguish quality none of the lords or giggling ladies had ever seen before. In fact, more than a few of the latter watched him with interest, wondering what was going on in that heroic, wily head of his. 

Galt was just hungry. 

He was privvy to none of these assertions, nor any of the machinations that were likely being whispered or spoken of behind closed doors. As the gentlemen and gentry began filtering into the dining hall, Vedrick Frankhardt had Galt near the hearth, a few meters away from the very head of the table. Of course he would not sit there, as it was the King's seat, but he stood where all would see. The King was not present, likely dealing with some business elsewhere before the meal. However, Duke Valdemar of Mrugalstern appeared, breaking off from the crowd. A hale man passing his middle years, his wide smile spread the salt and pepper beard he sported as his arms went out wide. Resplendent in red and purple and silver, the loud colors he wore betrayed his eccentric personality. 

"What am I supposed to say again?" Galt asked Vedrick quietly. 

"Call him 'Your Grace' and give a bow, before informing him what an honor it is to see him." He whispered to Galt, before stepping back to greet another courtier and shake his hand in perfect poise. Galt slowed his beating heart with a deep breath and repeated what Vedrick said to himself quietly. Once the Duke was a mere pace away, Galt began. 

"Your Gra- UGH," Galt was suddenly swept up in a hug by Valdemar, crushing him in his arms. Galt was lean but not a small man, however Valdemar was suitably large for one of his lofty station. He laughed happily and set Galt back down, letting his breath. The former thief tugged at his collar and cleared his throat. He gave out a wheeze of "[sub]It's good to see you again.[/sub]"

"My boy! It is rip-roaring to have watched you in the ceremony. The power, the honor! You will make a fine count, I just know it!" The Duke exclaimed, his smile reaching his bright blue eyes. Behind him, the lesser nobles began to congregate and speak to one another in earnest now, some eyes looking Galt's way and other's staring at the Duke's back, whereas a few were discussing private matters of military or secret import in the corner. Drinks were served and families gathered together, but no one had yet taken a seat. Galt could only give the party a glance the scant second it took for the Duke to stand aside and introduce his wife, a woman about a decade older than Galt, prim but warm in countenance. "Allow me to introduce you to the Lady Dahlia, my darling wife." 

"My lady," Galt said with a relieved smile, glad to see she would not also lift him up like a ragdoll. She presented her hand, and he gingerly took it in his kissed it. Galt was not used to noble company, but he had done his fair share of flirtation in his life, and there was very little difference between a suave greeting to a noble lady and trying to woo a busty barmaid unused to being treated like royalty. "It does my heart well to finally meet you." 

"Oh no, I am just so grateful you saved my darling, Valdemar." She intoned. Her hair was woven into a braid that nearly reached Galt's height, and he couldn't begin to fathom how it was tied up in such a fashion. It looked more difficult to weave than the locks of a bank. He had to keep his fingers from wiggling when he saw the glint of her bejeweled rings that graced her hand. If he stole something here, he would be slain so quickly he wouldn't have time to regret it. Blinking, he realized she was still talking. Damn, I was just looking at the jewelry. Fuck. "-and the baron was much detracted from the whole ordeal. I nearly guffawed, darling!" 

"Er y-yes of course," Galt said with what he hoped was a winning smile, shifting his gaze to Valdemar. "Your Grace, you never told me your lovely wife was such a gifted story-teller." 

Behind the chattering Valdemar and Dahlia, a very proper looking gentleman whom Galt had never seen before, one Vincent Kasper, waited patiently with a hawkish expression. Behind him, a few nobles began flocking to stand in line to speak to Galt. Galt did his best to hide his nervousness. He did not expect a pretty woman to glide over and whisper in the man's ear, grabbing him by the arm and leading him away, eyes never leaving his as he tried to protest but could not out of the veritable cage politeness brought to such an event. Well, at least that lightened the load a bit. 

"We really should not keep you, my boy. I will go and await the king's approach. But we simply must talk more soon, yes?" The Duke inquired, and Galt nodded. He might be out of his element, but he was glad he had saved the man's life, and not only for the vast rewards he was receiving. As the Duke left, he called for whomever would like to accompany him to meet the King in person. A few of those awaiting Galt jumped at the opportunity, seeing the chance to raise their station in a once in a lifetime opportunity. They would be able to speak to Galt later, of course. Not that it diminished those looking to meet him, but it thinned the herd of the impatient ones. Except for one. 

A woman Galt thought was quite lovely. He cleared his throat and stood to his full height. Vedrick gave a bow, something Galt was a bit too distracted to think on. "Count Galt, may I present the Lady Silke Kasper."

"My lady, uh, how do you do?" He asked, making sure his voice did not waver. He offered his hand to shake, and then pulled back since that wasn't proper etiquette. Vedrick's eyes went wide, and Galt looked at him with a mixture of guilt and accusation, as if to go "I know I fucked up, but I'm your responsibility."