Galt felt somewhat intimidated by the woman. Yes, there were other lovely ladies in the great dining all, many simpering to their peers or sending eyes his way. But Silke had caught his own eye for the moment, and she was a bit stronger than she looked. He appreciated that about her, as well as her forthright but warm way she carried herself. She was and graceful, though it was hard to tell in the ball gowns the ladies wore. [i]Oh, and you want to find out, right?[/i] He asked himself sardonically. 

"He's learning, but a bit slowly for my tastes," Verdick remarked with his nose in the air, though he could not help but smile at Silke's presence. Galt had the distinct feeling he was being lightly facetious at Galt's expense as well. The newly anointed count gave him a look, and then regarded Silke again.

"It is very overwhelming," He conceded, giving a gracious but handsomely curt bow. "It is my pleasure to meet you. I believe I've heard of your family, but only in passing." 

That was maybe a lie. He had heard many names since he had come here, dozens upon dozens over the past day. Whether Kasper was one of them, he could not begin to recall. Galt was accustomed to lying to get ahead, though he did his best to curb that habit of his. Lying now could get him in more trouble, mostly because he had more to lose now than ever before. As he took her next question in, the King arrived. One could tell as the crowd both parted and grew larger all at once, the King's scepter easily seen through the throng of high class onlookers. Even still, some eyed Silke and Galt, but he felt better for not being the center of attention there. 

As one, servants pulled the high-backed, cushioned chairs out with a low thrum of wood sliding on wood. The table was long and fitting with delectable steaming pork and chicken, with various vegetables and fruits stacked in wooden, lacquered bowls. Wine and water were brought forth, poured in glasses that were just waiting to be refilled by eager servants. Galt looked at them with confusion. They were as low born as he, but he would never have been so happy to serve. Then again, he was born outside of a great castle, where favor was worth as much as gold. 

"Where is he? Where is my new Count of Gavony?" The King called, his voice rising over the din of the crowd as he ended the small talk and called for the newly anointed noble of the hour. Galt stood at attention, and Vedrick pushed Galt forward. Galt would not ignore such summons, but before he did so, without thinking he offered his arm for Silke to take. It was an unconscious action from a commoner who wanted to appear chivalrous. He did not think of the implications, and had two thoughts in his head at that very moment. 'It would be rude to ignore her so readily,' and the ever important second thought of 'cute girl, come with me.' 

The King raised an eyebrow at Galt once he approached, but Galt paid it little mind except a subtle thought of 'yes, I do move quickly.' 

"Lady Kasper, you are radiant as always. I see you have become acquainted with our new gentleman. Count Harrowmark, would you take a seat next to me at my table?" The King asked in proper fashion. He was a tall man, with a brown beard and hard eyes that betrayed a humorous nature when it fancied him, but Galt could imagine them flashing with wrath when provoked. The thief was going to be kneel, but realized he would pull Silke down like a ragdoll, so he gave a bow. 

"I would be honored, your highness. W-Would the Lady Silke be allowed to sit next to me?" Galt inquired. His accent was thick and very unrefined compared to the rest of the assembly. Beyond their talk, a protesting voice was heard. In the midst of the crowd strode forward a younger fellow, who looked much like Duke Valdemar were he thirty years younger. He wore a more sporting vest, however. Something that could be clad atop a brigandine in case of war, and at his hip was a sidesword with a swept knucklebow. The hilt was exquisitely made, fashioned out of brass and carved into the likeness of a fiery comet. 

"I do not know your game, sir, but [i]I[/i] am to sit next to you." He remarked, eyeing Galt suspiciously. Galt blinked, perplexed at the problem. He continued with a haughty countenance. "My father and you sit closest to the King, and then it is I. You may only plant your arse there for this celebration alone. Were it a normal occasion and not your coronation, you would be a dozen seats away from his royal highness. The Lady Kasper must take her leave and be with her family, as it has always been." 

"Vildraven!" The Duke Valdemar snarled, glaring at his son for his impetuous words. The tension seemed palpable, but it was broken instantly by the laughter of the King, all eyes drawn to him. It was like a mixture between rocks crashing down a hill and the chiming of great cathedral bells, rough but reverberating beyond most men's range. 

"Young Duke, normally you would be correct." The King reasoned, glancing at Vildraven of Mrugalstern. The King's face, particularly his eyes, transformed before Galt's own gaze, and his earlier prediction of humor turning to wrath seemed to be providential as he watched it happen right before him. "But I believe the guest of honor may invite who he may to sit, where he may. And even were it a normal ceremony, I would think you would be more grateful to the man who saved your father's life, rather than thinking of only your own station." 

Vildraven balked, his jaw clenched. Hastily, he gave his apologies and waded back into the mass of aristocrats. Galt felt a bit guilty. He began to speak, to say he could sit elsewhere with Silke, but Verdick placed a hand on his mouth and set him in a bow, bowing as well. The King looked back, and everyone was standing at attendance, ready to be seated. He smiled, satisfied, and the music continued once more as he made his way to the head of the table. To his left, the Duke Valdemar and his wife, the Lady Daliah. To his right, Galt sat, pulling out Silke's chair a bit more for her and inclining his head to her. 

"Let the feast begin!" The King announced, clapping his hands. 

Minutes later, once Galt had waded through the pleasantries of the King and Duke along with Silke entertaining them for a brief conversation, he turned to her and could finally answer her question.  

"The Duke was, um, the Duke had been attacked by brigands. Brigands that had already captured me, you see? The guard with the Duke had been scattered or killed, and he was fighting for his life in their midst. I was... their prisoner, er..." He didn't want to admit they had tied him up for failing to steal from the Duke himself, and for debts he owed. He decided that was something he could skip. Dalti's boys had employed Galt for years as a thief and smuggler. He even liked a few of the lads. But they had tied him up and he was nothing if not a survivor. He hoped none of the ones he knew had been hanged. "I'm good with my hands and feet, so I escaped their ropes and slipped past their sentries, before I stole a horse from their hideout. As I was fleeing for my life down the forest road, I happened upon the Duke and took him aboard." He had trampled old Godwin, something he still regretted. "We were chased as far as the Grandwood, but we managed to get him safely back to his castle."