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The dinner, it seemed, was becoming increasingly hostile and inhospitable. Éliane thought it was an incredible shame, considering that Galahad was a swell enough nobleman, and his mother was rather friendly, as well. More importantly, these people knew how to cook, and they had great coffee! Certainly, it was better stuff than had been available at the capital. 

The seasoning on the roast was absolutely chef’s kiss. The gravy, rich, creamy, and top notch, together with the potatoes. The vegetables that accompanied the dishes were also perfectly roasted, and the family certainly knew their wine, too. Of course, Éliane preferred her beloved coffee, but she wasn’t a rube that didn’t know vintages and could still appreciate a good accompaniment.

Her attention continued to turn inward on the meal as the Caradoc patriarch began to start a row after the party had answered his question. She’d answered him in truth and had received sneers in return, but Éliane clamped down on her displeasure. She had no skin in this particular game of familial conflict, nope! Reaching for some fresh bread to soak up some of the gravy and juices that were on her plate, she froze as the elder Caradoc dropped a bomb that made even her pause. 

Well, that would likely explain a lot of the hostility, if true. Still, why was Skael getting a big portion of the splashback here? Why the extra hostility, lord cranky host? She and the rest of her countrymen hadn’t participated in that silly war! 

Éliane drew her hand back with her bread as Izayoi made her case. It was a very well-reasoned explanation that she nodded along to as she enjoyed the piece of sourdough that she broke off, but she frowned at the quickly dwindling gravy on her plate. 

She was quite sure that Lord Caradoc was breaking quite a number of the rules of guests and hospitality by threatening to hang his guests, an existing blood debt or not. She was also quite confident that the king would be rather cross, too. What was a little diplomatic incident over killing some envoys?

And certainly, she wasn’t done enjoying the good food at the table. They’d already left a terrible impression… What was something a little worse? If relations were irreparable at this point, she might as well enjoy as much as she could and hoped the servants didn’t get the current bad vibes and served dessert before they were truly kicked out…

But first. She gestured towards the silver gravy pitcher that was by Lord Caradoc. 

[b]“Pardon me. Can you pass the gravy?”[/b]