Dance, Dance, Revelation

The day of the Royal Ball approached rapidly - far too rapidly, as far as Ahsch was concerned. He still struggled with his etiquette lessons, and though the automata was polite about it, he could tell Butler was less than impressed by his progress in the diplomatic arts. With a resigned glow in his eye, the construct blamed Ahsch's struggle on Avery, suggesting that too much exposure to the blunt, incredibly un-diplomatic Lord Odestag was rubbing off on the hrafthi.

Ahsch was petty sure he was just bad at it. He could be polite, no problem; but the excess rules and meaningless niceties were a pain to keep track of. Still, the day before the Ball, Butler simply shrugged, deemed his charge adequate, and wished Ahsch luck.

The Ball itself was actually hosted on one of the lower floors - actually, a pair of floors, with the ballroom proper taking up enough vertical space that balconies from the upper floor overlooked the main floor - the entirety of which was filled with people. It was hardly 'standing room only,' but Ahsch would be surprised if there was a hallway he could stand in without being in line-of-sight of at least one other person.

As Lords of the House, they were expected to enter via the main stair into the ballroom, be announced, pay their respects to the ruling family, and then they could enjoy the ball. Ahsch was mildly surprised when Avery actually guided him through those steps, in that order, with a minimum of shenanigans.

"I might not enjoy a lot of the rules, but pissing off the ruling family is not on my list of things to do," she explained as they made their way to a small table to the side of the ballroom.

Ahsch chuckled, and they snagged a pair of drinks from a passing servant. The hrafthi took a sip while his wife drained the glass and put it on another passing platter, then waved off Ahsch's raised eyebrow. "This shit is weak as piss."

It has to be with you around, Ahsch thought, looking around. There were already over a hundred royals present, and almost all of them were chatting. "So... do we mingle, or...?"

"Eventually, yeah. I'd rather wait until more... agreeable people show up though," Avery said, then growled out a sigh. "Lord Nadren seems to have other ideas," she grit through a smile faker than Ariin's innocence. "Lord Nadren, how fares your son? I heard he fell of his horse last month - hope nothing damaged that pretty face of his!"

Ahsch groaned internally. It was going to be a long night.

Contrary to her reassurances, Avery dragged her husband out onto the ballroom floor with an evil grin when the main social dance began. "I'll lead," she reassured him, smirking at his discomfort."I'll sic Butler on you next time you have a hangover," he growled back as she pulled him into position.

"Should've gone with Ariin, I'm used to Butler's fussing - Ariin would just _love _to irritate me," Avery's grin only grew.

"Damnit," Ahsch swore, a small smile growing on his face.

The dance itself wasn't all the awful, and luckily did not include partner-swapping. Contrary to her implication, Avery easily guided Ahsch through the 'man's' role by having him mirror her (only specific Euphorian dances had dance roles with a man/woman split, due to there being more women than men, but they often had leading and following roles). Still, the hrafthi stepped on his wife's foot a couple times and was grateful for her tail around his waist, tugging and leading his body while she guided his hands and balance with her own.

Eventually, the dance ended, and smirking, Avery allowed her husband to break away and sit down at their chosen table with a huff. She sprawled in the chair beside him, smiling lazily at Ahsch. "That wasn't too bad, was it?" she teased.

"I will edge you like Ariin for a week if you do that again," he retorted.

"How do you know I won't like that?"

"Because you like cumming far too much to give them up for that long."

Avery made an annoyed face. "Fuck you," she pouted, snatching, downing, and sending away her fifth glass of the night. Ahsch took another sip of his second.

She'd been right, it was watered down to basically nothing, probably to keep the hundreds of royals and nobles out of trouble throughout the night. Still tasted pretty good, just no kick.

After a few minutes and a quick trip to the food bar, Avery left her husband at the table while she went to speak with some nobles, warning him that she would probably be busy with dealings for the next hour or so. Ahsch had fulfilled his royal obligations of chatting prior to the dance, and settled in to simply people-watch for the next while. And maybe play with some false-casting. Or Daydreamweave with his Thralls.

"First ball?"

Ahsch jumped at the voice from behind, turning quickly to see a graceful, older human woman with long, dark brown hair streaked with grey; her grey eyes were wrinkled slightly with a small smile as she stood behind the hrafthi, her bearing one of authority. She was dressed elegantly in a dark, emerald green dress with purple highlights. It was a color that pulled at Ahsch's memory, though he couldn't place it. "Apologies, I didn't intend to startle you, young man."

Ahsch chuckled, standing and giving a slight bow. "I wasn't paying attention, you have nothing to apologize for - and yes, this is my first ball."

The woman's smile grew. "I was fairly certain - most men your age are usually hounding various young ladies for attention, shadowing their own parents, or gathered in a gaggle of gossips." She hummed a brief laugh. "And they tend to strut like peacocks on the dance floors, eager to impress the same ladies they so pursue."

Ahsch smiled back. "I imagine that most royal - or noble - men my age were prepared for such an event for years." He gave an almost apologetic smile. "I started only a few weeks ago."

"You certainly lack the learned grace of etiquette, but you are well spoken and polite for someone who only started learning within the month."

He inclined his head. "My parents taught me the good of kind words. That and dealing with people who thought themselves above the dangers of the wilds without knowing what they spoke of."

"Yes, you are from Sarvas, are you not? Quite far from the Capital."

He nodded slowly. "I am..." Then he chuckled. "I suppose after my marriage, everyone knows who I am, where I came from, and why the first bit happened at all."

"It was quite a coup," the lady agreed. "Especially coming from Lady Celes. The poor girl has her hands full, and given recent events, well, everyone was surprised by her sudden act of generosity."

"I wasn't sure what to make of it myself, but... I think, in a way, she actually meant it. Maybe." He shrugged. "I'll admit I'm not the most knowledgeable when it comes to royal politics."

"Political maneuvering is quite a chore - so much work, so many words, and often for such little gain. Though every little bit helps." She gazed at Ahsch contemplatively. "I presume your lessons were focused on etiquette?"

"Yes...?" Ahsch looked back questioningly.

"Much of the machinations of we royals can be discerned by knowing the whats, whys, hows, and whoms. For sure, the base niceties are treasured, but the important pieces are in knowing about who you are speaking with, and what words you can say to them to attain what you want while appeasing them."

Ahsch smiled, not quite sure where she was going. "You seem well-versed on the subject."

She smiled back. "One has to be in R'sath. Perhaps I could teach you some - the ball will continue for several hours more, and you seem rather bereft of company." She hummed another laugh. "I promise to make things at least modestly entertaining for you."

Ahsch's eyebrows went up. "That... would be quite appreciated, thank you."

With a gesture to the table, they sat, and for the next hour, Ahsch was indeed moderately entertained by the lady's lesson. As promised, she gave suggestions on how to tease out information on her conversation partners' goals, some of the common verbal traps employed by royals, and general advice on how to speak with authority without being overbearing or coming off as aggressive or rude.

Eventually, she stood, smiling apologetically. "Unfortunately, I must go - I have some business to take care of while several individuals are all here. But it has been a pleasant time speaking with you, young man.

"If I may offer one last piece of advice... your... wife. She is a dangerous creature, full of secrets and treachery. I'm not certain what she has offered you, but I must strongly warn you against any dealings with her. I guarantee you, it will bring you only ruin."

Without giving him a chance to respond, the lady turned and swept away, her bearing causing other guests to smoothly step out of her way, allowing her to disappear into the crowd.

"You okay?"

Ahsch turned to see Avery, her head canted to one side. "You look tense," she said, a slight frown on her face.

The hrafthi swallowed. "Ah... I just spent the past while talking to a noble - or probably royal - lady. She actually sat down and gave me an impromptu lesson on talking with royals, or more speaking for 'political dealings.' Then she... well, she warned me that you were dangerous and would basically screw me over, then left without another word."

A scowl crossed Avery's features. "What'd the cunt look like?" she snarled, then to herself, "Maybe one of Kirasiel's... no, that bitch doesn't have friends..."

Ahsch gave a quick description of the lady, and was shocked when his wife went pale. Almost numbly, she grabbed his wrist. "We're leaving," she said, her voice strangely flat, and pulled him away, ignoring every attempt by either him or other guests to stop her.

It wasn't until they were in the lift that she responded to her husband's repeated questions. "Who was it? Why are you so freaked out?" he asked.

"Her name is Fauna."

Ahsch frowned, thinking. It was familiar, but not very, maybe he'd only heard it once?

Fauna Odestag, Mahat reminded him. Pavel's wife. Miri's mother. The one who's accusing Avery of killing her brother.