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On a battlefield, it was courage and a steadfast advance that defined a knight, unbowed as they were by adversity and multiplicity.

In a ballroom though, surrounded by those of high society, their armaments removed and their status as protectors of the realm granted to Royal Guards instead? A knight remained as such, but required too the finesse and grace of a noble, whilst remaining unashamed of the badges of honor earned, the body they had forged in flame, against anvil.

What else could Dame Serenity of House Arcedeen be expected to arrive in then, if not in her finest dress? Indigo fabrics hugged her frames, layered upon each other like ocean waves, flowing upwards to wrap around her neck. For the occasion, she had allowed her hair to flow loosely, draping over her shoulders whilst adorning herself with a few tasteful accessories that complemented her eyes. A few accessories to complement the scars that marked her body, to juxtapose with the broadness of her shoulders, the flatness of her bosom. It was a time to enjoy herself, after all. To see who remained in the third princess's favor, and who invited themselves in whilst disregarding such favors. Lein certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, the Hundi archer wearing his dress splendidly. She had not marked him the type to have such predilections, but if that was what he enjoyed, then so be it.

Gerard too, seemed to already be doing her proud. Serenity was [i]right[/i], as always. A bathing, a set of fine-enough clothing, and a couple pointers on posture and etiquette, and just like that, the handsome mercenary had earned himself more attention from the ladies that Dame Cecilia, and he had done so without even trying! Though, of course, those three ladies [i]were[/i] still but children, and perhaps the flame-haired Sir Sergio had something to say about that as well.

Regardless, it was better than whatever Sir Fleuri and Sir Renar found themselves in, the latter having the absolute [i]pleasure[/i] of catching the attention of [i]the[/i] Crown Knight. The half-brother one. Serenity's smile remained, fixed like glass, and then, briskly, she turned away from whatever [i]that[/i] scene was going to cause. As fascinating as the drama between the legitimate and illegitimate may be, there was no merit to be derived from watching two grown men trade snide remarks or step on each others' toes. If they were going to fight, she hoped they did so outside and put on a proper show for the guests.

One that hopefully didn't involve pocket sand.

Instead, she settled her gaze on the one space of silence in the ballroom. A space occupied by a black knight and his petite charge. A duo iconic enough now, to make them unmistakable no matter the distance. Veilena Cazt, the traitor's spawn. Eyes that glittered with the gold of prodigious intelligence. Hair that belonged on the head of a woman thrice her age. A child that either possessed an inner steel even at the age of eight, or could act the part at the behest of an experienced advisor. It was a shame, then, that such merciless decisions only made her more of a figure of suspicion amongst the upper caste.

After all, most nobles weren't fools enough to believe that a child could understand the gravity of treason, sheltered as she was from the worst of the rebellion. There were wives amongst the traitor-nobles who acted less severely than she did. To do so then, at the age she had been...t'was uncanny. Intentions, however noble, were subject still to interpretation. And association, too? A poisonous thing indeed.

That did not, however, stop Serenity's advance. Whether as a Knight or as a Scion.

[b]"Good evening, Lady Veilena Cazt,"[/b] the flaxen-haired knight spoke, favoring the younger lady with a slight smile. [b]"Have you tired of this occasion already? Or is Her Royal Highness, Princess Elisandre Tanetha Falisse, the only one to have drawn your presence tonight?"[/b]