[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220814/c5ba6361ddfa686af8da069b54d627e7.png[/img][/center] Considering how many times Lucas had witnessed people on the morning after a late night of drinking - all haggard and depressed in their hangovers - the young man was pleasantly surprised to wake up feeling refreshed and full of vigour. He was up at the crack of dawn and down on the training yard, stretching and exercising, then practising the stances and strikes that Sir Fleuri had taught him. As he ran through his drills, his eyes glanced over at the combat dummy with the head wound. Last night had ended strangely for sure, but he felt better for it. His mother had once said that women live longer than men because they let their emotions out - cry once in a while, talk about their feelings. Maybe his session of sobbing had done him some good. What irked him though, was that someone might well have witnessed his palaver last night. He'd never had guessed, but for a conspicuously placed slice of cake left at the door that he'd discovered after cleaning himself and the training yard up. It could've been coincidence, but the castle was usually a tidy place, the servants always on top of things. So it stood to reason that someone had left the cake for [i]him[/i], probably to out of pity. But who? In the mess hall, later on, Lucas was interrupted by a messenger. The man looked disconcertingly at the knight's obnoxiously large breakfast, then gathered himself and informed Lucas that he'd been selected to join Knight-Captain Fanilly at the Princess' Ball. Lucas stared at the messenger stupidly with his mouth full. [color=6ecff6][i]"Me?"[/i][/color] he muffled out, some bread falling out of his mouth. The messenger replied affirmatively. Why [i]him[/i]? He was surprised any of the higher ups had even noticed him (at least, not for good reasons anyway.) However this happened, it had now filled him with a sense of urgency and he got up to go get ready, but halfway out from the benches, he looked back mournfully at the rest of his breakfast, then couldn't resist the urge to finish it. [color=6ecff6][i]I'll be quick.[/i][/color] After taking his dishes back to the kitchen himself, he asked who was working in the kitchen last night, and managed to speak to the woman in question, who informed him, upon inquiry, that Paladin Tyaethe had stopped by around midnight and took a slice of cake of the same variety he'd found at the doorway. Luas was equal parts horrified and confused. Of all the people. Although it made sense that the vampire was up late. They were obviously the nocturnal type. [color=6ecff6][i]Well that settles,[/i][/color] he thought. [color=6ecff6][i]It's no coincidence, after all.[/i][/color] A short time later, he was with Sir Enrich; a knight he'd shared a few conversations, who was a warm and friendly sort. The veteran was rummaging through some old clothes, looking for something that would be fitting for a ball and also fit Lucas, who didn't really have many clothes at all. "Here, take this," Enrich said, draping some fancy threads over Lucas' arms. "And this. This should fit." [color=6ecff6]"You're a life-saver, mate. Much appreciated."[/color] Bailed out again. As always. Just in time. [h3][center][b]***[/b][/center][/h3] Following the knight-captain through the crowds, along with all of the chosen Knights of the Iron Rose Order, Lucas looked around, taking it all in. The place was beautiful, colourful and vibrant gardens decorated with flowers and decoration. The people were beautiful, Aimlenn's richest, dressed in the finest clothes and jewellry that money can buy. Inside the hall, Lucas' eyes went wide at tables full of food. It hadn't been long since he'd eaten, but by Reon, did the stuff on display look inviting. Upon entering, the knights began to disperse and Lucas stood as people passed him by, looking around some more. Other party guests had looked over to spy the Iron Rose procession and Lucas' gaze washed over them, for the moment forgetting how 'out of place' he should be feeling. Perhaps he just didn't care. He'd spent months being out of place in a knightly order. Being out of place at a fancy ball was nothing. Speaking of 'out of place,' Lucas' eyebrows shot up at the spider lady amongst the guests, then quickly turned his gaze away to the tables, lest he offend someone. As if on queue, Sir Lein crossed his gaze, dressed in his beautiful gown, walking with purpose. This was too much. He himself was dressed in Sir Enrich's hand-me-downs; a dark red velveteen tuxedo coat, gothic in design, with carved black buttons and an embroidered black collar. Underneath - shirt, pants and boots - were all black. Way too fancy for Lucas' tastes but when he posed in his mirror, he certainly felt rather nice about what he saw. His sword was at his hip too, as he was instructed. The longest part of getting ready was gelling his hair, slick back. No matter how many times went over it, one thin spike of hair would pop out and hang down in front of his forehead. It was annoying but he decided to leave it be. After all, it looked tidier than the usually messy mop it was. He spotted Paladin Tyaethe perusing the wines and let out a breath before heading over. She hadn't said anything, or made any indication to Lucas about what happened last night, (and Lucas was glad of her discretion,) but he felt gratitude for her efforts to cheer him up. Cake could always do that. As he crossed the room, he realised that he also felt a little guilty for judging the vampire too harshly. He'd always seen her as an unapproachable, rather moody sort, displaying very little in the way of emotion of any kind. And she was certainly a mythical power, beyond any knight in the order - something she'd displayed seemingly effortlessly in the battle against Jeremiah. She was otherworldly. Aloof. Disconnected from simple mortal problems. But even if that assessment was correct, she'd didn't have to do [i]anything[/i] to console Lucas. But she [i]did[/i]. And that counted for something. [color=6ecff6]"Any orders for me, Paladin Tyaethe?"[/color] he asked jokingly as he joined her, his tone bright, but the volume low enough that only she would hear. [color=6ecff6]"Perhaps slay the spider-lady? Watch the captain's flanks?"[/color] He grinned at her, then looked out on the hall and it's guests. [color=6ecff6]"How long do these things last for, then? I'm already thinking about bed."[/color] Then, after a while of it lingering on the edge of his tongue, he finally said, [color=6ecff6]"Thanks, Paladin."[/color] Awkward. It was hard to be anything else when expressing gratitude to a legendary undead woman. If he'd told his parents that one day he'd be stood chatting to such a person, (at a Princess' ball, no less!) they'd be checking his temperature for fear of fever. Life simply doesn't prepare a man for perpetually-bored vampire paladins.