Tyaethe cast the captain a withering look, paying only token attention to the discussion of dwarven customs. The girl certainly seemed a bit on the tall and beardless side for a dwarf but the undead wasn’t one to question what other people claimed about themselves. Maybe there was some hidden criteria to being a dwarf that she hadn’t been made aware of? They were all a bit far away.
“Captain, whilst I am considerably smaller than when in armour, I would have hoped that you recognised the sword,” she said, voice on the low side for her apparent age but definitely not as deep as from within her armour. “On top of that, my arrival would have been announced less than a minute ago.”
The paladin took a deep draught of the beer and stepped over to one of the guests to drag him before the captain. It was remarkably good beer, which was all the better after two centuries of abstinence from any worldly pleasures. “Please repeat my introduction.”
“Ah… Her Grace the Duchess of Meren?”
“Thank you,” Tyaethe said, having not yet taken in the introduction and pushing him off back into the crowd, “As you just heard, I... what?”
The childish undead seemed to have been brought to a halt by that little bit of information and, after having squeezed herself close to Fanilly’s elbow, simply stood there taking an occasional swig from the large flagon. She didn’t even display much of a response to the Princess’s arrival, though her eyes took note of the “interesting” cut that the girl seemed to have chosen.
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