Princess Rebecca found the currents of the ball somewhat odd and ritualised. Unlike some of her less formal parties in younger years, there was less spontaenity and chaos to it all. The music was muted, classical, and preformed live. She found the idea of an Orchestra preforming just for her somewhat amusing. But the rest of the Ball clearly was not. Food was laid out in sumptious quantities along the side, and a more formal dinner would likely begin soon. But for now, clumps of people arrived and seamlessly flowed into the Ball, like a well-oiled clockwork machine, following some invisible pattern she could only begin to discern.
She found herself gently being escorted into the company of a group of Franconian Nobles. A safe party for her to begin conversing with first, reasonably low rank compared to the rest of the guests. Her Uncle expected great things of her tonight, and no doubt was using this encounter to gauge how ready she was for engaging in repartee with aristocrats and royals. She exchanged pleasantries, remembering the tricks her uncle's Decorum tutor had spent many long years drilling in her. How to smile, the tilt of the eye-muscles, the way one curtesied and how deep, poise, balance, the right inflections to use in French, English and German. The only court language she didn't know fluently was Danish, which would be problematic, since her Uncle wanted her to make a very good impression on the Danish Crown Prince. "I do not care if you were to find him a swinish bore with foul breath." He had hissed. "At the very least become his best friend, for god's sake."
After exchanging pleasantries with the Franconians, her Uncle gave her the signal to move on to the Eiffelandians. However, they seemed deep in conversation with the Wiesans, so she decided to take the iniatitive and get it over with, and approach the Danes. It was bold and in truth she gained no pleasure from this court ritual and intrigue, but her Uncle was generous with satisfying her true wants- if she did this for him. if she didn't...she shuddered. She had learned too well at an early age how he could punish her without ever laying a hand on her. He was a master of emotional manipulation, but, for all that, he was her uncle, and she understood that he alone kept them not only alive, but in this world of wealth and power, a bubble from an earlier age somehow staying afloat.
"Greetings, your majesty." She said, stepping through a swirl of courtiers and people, which temporarily obscured the vision of her uncle, who was beginning to frown. "How are you finding the Ball so far? I assure you the meal will be much more fun than all this talking and these canapes." She gave the prince her best smile, which to her mind made her kinda look like a rictus skeleton.
But at that moment, the way the light fell her, the glint of her jewelry, the ruffles of her dress, and the broadness of her smile, even the quality of the shine in her hair, made her radiate, in just the manner her uncle wanted her to. A shining beauty at last, crafted by the best of europe out of someone who was normally fairly mousy at best. A fairytale princess, almost. If she remembered her lines. The crowd parted, and Samuel's smile froze on his face. She wasn't talking to Prince Sweyn at all.
She was talking to his brother, Prince Christian.
Using her skills, she moved closer, almost intimately, in order to talk more privately with the prince. "I hope you don't find Franken too dull. I assure you things were much more...imaginitive back home." For her, "home" meant Montelimar, but the word carried many meanings. She was doing everything she had been taught over many months, to come across as seductively as possible. In the cockpit of her brain, it felt a bit like her Decorum classes all over again, a routine running on automatic. In truth, this Prince didn't really seem her type, but she was keen to impress her Uncle, who had promised to divert yet more funds to helping the FTLM if she did well tonight.
"I hope I'm not boring you?" she said coyly, noticing his wandering eye, and acutely aware that the Potenzan Princess was a dark sultry beauty who frankly made her feel dowdy and old-fashioned with her racy fashion and smouldering good looks.
As she exchanged pleasantries with the Danish Prince, she noticed a stunning, almost Bishounen, youth, moving through the crowds behind him. Her heart almost caught in the mouth. This young prince wore wiesan millitary uniform, but she didn't recognise him. There was something off about him, suggesting effefimancy and perhaps homosexuality. Her uncle had warned her about this in the Eiffelandian delegation, but hadn't said anything about a homosexual Wiesan Prince. In fact he had said that the only Thiessen Prince attending was an old man. The rest were just a few noble hangers-on and the Princess Eleonore.
Remembering herself, she remembered she was supposed to be listening to the Prince. "Forgive me, your majesty. I see it is time perhaps to start dining?" She blushed, recovering herself well. In truth, she found this young officer, even if he wasn't royalty, almost too reminisicent of the heroes of her favourite manga and comics, dashing 18th century noblemen thwarting plots and doing all sorts of exciting, romantic things. It was going to be difficult to remember her mission with him around. She would have to find out his name.
Meanwhile, Samuel was talking with the Nicosian royalty, letting the ritual and formality of conversation with these minor royals distract him from what might have been a derailment of his meticulous plans. Rebecca had somehow ended up giving both barrels of her seduction spiel, so many months in the making, to the wrong prince. He was sure he had shown her pictures online of Sweyn, but apparently she hadn't been paying attention then. He concealed his irritation masterfully. No matter, Christian was at least robustly heterosexual. A Homosexual prince didn't bother him, but it made things more complicated, and he knew Rebecca was far too free-spirited to easily consent, no matter what inducements he used, to such an arranged union for long.
He saw it was time now for dining. The Hall was packed with extravagant and first-class starters, prepared by a world-class team of sous-chefs at the explicit instructions of their Montelimarian gourmand. Every seat had been carefully arranged and prepared in accordance with court etiquette. Rebecca was no fan of such rich foods, but she had agreed to eat it, on the agreement that she could eat Fast-food takeout for a week afterwards.
Samuel took the stage, as the strains of relaxing waltz music died, the orchestra ceasing for the moment.
"Attention, Majesties, Highnesses, Ladies and Gentlemen. Dining will begin shortly. Please seat yourselves at your earliest convenience." He said suavely. He noticed that some of the press had turned up. Only Franken local had been permitted, but he made a mental note to check all press passes. He didn't want any disruptions to this evening.
Unfortunately, it seemed that something quite disruptive was already brewing....
She found herself gently being escorted into the company of a group of Franconian Nobles. A safe party for her to begin conversing with first, reasonably low rank compared to the rest of the guests. Her Uncle expected great things of her tonight, and no doubt was using this encounter to gauge how ready she was for engaging in repartee with aristocrats and royals. She exchanged pleasantries, remembering the tricks her uncle's Decorum tutor had spent many long years drilling in her. How to smile, the tilt of the eye-muscles, the way one curtesied and how deep, poise, balance, the right inflections to use in French, English and German. The only court language she didn't know fluently was Danish, which would be problematic, since her Uncle wanted her to make a very good impression on the Danish Crown Prince. "I do not care if you were to find him a swinish bore with foul breath." He had hissed. "At the very least become his best friend, for god's sake."
After exchanging pleasantries with the Franconians, her Uncle gave her the signal to move on to the Eiffelandians. However, they seemed deep in conversation with the Wiesans, so she decided to take the iniatitive and get it over with, and approach the Danes. It was bold and in truth she gained no pleasure from this court ritual and intrigue, but her Uncle was generous with satisfying her true wants- if she did this for him. if she didn't...she shuddered. She had learned too well at an early age how he could punish her without ever laying a hand on her. He was a master of emotional manipulation, but, for all that, he was her uncle, and she understood that he alone kept them not only alive, but in this world of wealth and power, a bubble from an earlier age somehow staying afloat.
"Greetings, your majesty." She said, stepping through a swirl of courtiers and people, which temporarily obscured the vision of her uncle, who was beginning to frown. "How are you finding the Ball so far? I assure you the meal will be much more fun than all this talking and these canapes." She gave the prince her best smile, which to her mind made her kinda look like a rictus skeleton.
But at that moment, the way the light fell her, the glint of her jewelry, the ruffles of her dress, and the broadness of her smile, even the quality of the shine in her hair, made her radiate, in just the manner her uncle wanted her to. A shining beauty at last, crafted by the best of europe out of someone who was normally fairly mousy at best. A fairytale princess, almost. If she remembered her lines. The crowd parted, and Samuel's smile froze on his face. She wasn't talking to Prince Sweyn at all.
She was talking to his brother, Prince Christian.
Using her skills, she moved closer, almost intimately, in order to talk more privately with the prince. "I hope you don't find Franken too dull. I assure you things were much more...imaginitive back home." For her, "home" meant Montelimar, but the word carried many meanings. She was doing everything she had been taught over many months, to come across as seductively as possible. In the cockpit of her brain, it felt a bit like her Decorum classes all over again, a routine running on automatic. In truth, this Prince didn't really seem her type, but she was keen to impress her Uncle, who had promised to divert yet more funds to helping the FTLM if she did well tonight.
"I hope I'm not boring you?" she said coyly, noticing his wandering eye, and acutely aware that the Potenzan Princess was a dark sultry beauty who frankly made her feel dowdy and old-fashioned with her racy fashion and smouldering good looks.
As she exchanged pleasantries with the Danish Prince, she noticed a stunning, almost Bishounen, youth, moving through the crowds behind him. Her heart almost caught in the mouth. This young prince wore wiesan millitary uniform, but she didn't recognise him. There was something off about him, suggesting effefimancy and perhaps homosexuality. Her uncle had warned her about this in the Eiffelandian delegation, but hadn't said anything about a homosexual Wiesan Prince. In fact he had said that the only Thiessen Prince attending was an old man. The rest were just a few noble hangers-on and the Princess Eleonore.
Remembering herself, she remembered she was supposed to be listening to the Prince. "Forgive me, your majesty. I see it is time perhaps to start dining?" She blushed, recovering herself well. In truth, she found this young officer, even if he wasn't royalty, almost too reminisicent of the heroes of her favourite manga and comics, dashing 18th century noblemen thwarting plots and doing all sorts of exciting, romantic things. It was going to be difficult to remember her mission with him around. She would have to find out his name.
Meanwhile, Samuel was talking with the Nicosian royalty, letting the ritual and formality of conversation with these minor royals distract him from what might have been a derailment of his meticulous plans. Rebecca had somehow ended up giving both barrels of her seduction spiel, so many months in the making, to the wrong prince. He was sure he had shown her pictures online of Sweyn, but apparently she hadn't been paying attention then. He concealed his irritation masterfully. No matter, Christian was at least robustly heterosexual. A Homosexual prince didn't bother him, but it made things more complicated, and he knew Rebecca was far too free-spirited to easily consent, no matter what inducements he used, to such an arranged union for long.
He saw it was time now for dining. The Hall was packed with extravagant and first-class starters, prepared by a world-class team of sous-chefs at the explicit instructions of their Montelimarian gourmand. Every seat had been carefully arranged and prepared in accordance with court etiquette. Rebecca was no fan of such rich foods, but she had agreed to eat it, on the agreement that she could eat Fast-food takeout for a week afterwards.
Samuel took the stage, as the strains of relaxing waltz music died, the orchestra ceasing for the moment.
"Attention, Majesties, Highnesses, Ladies and Gentlemen. Dining will begin shortly. Please seat yourselves at your earliest convenience." He said suavely. He noticed that some of the press had turned up. Only Franken local had been permitted, but he made a mental note to check all press passes. He didn't want any disruptions to this evening.
Unfortunately, it seemed that something quite disruptive was already brewing....