Snippet #1472891

That was really stupid, you halfwit. The whole room saw you staring. You may as well have walked up to her and bent the knee. Stop being so foolish, you git, and pay attention to courtesy. The Queen is nearly ready to roast you on a spit, already. Kervall berated himself silently for his staring as he watched the Greyhardts arrive. There was really no excuse for that kind of behaviour, and now he'd tipped his hand more than he'd liked. In the back of his mind, however, was a small voice saying something increasingly annoying that he was trying desperately - and failing - to ignore. For just a brief moment, when Adelaide felt eyes on her and their gazes had met ... she had smiled at me. Shaking himself mentally and wiping the grin from his face, Kervall forced himself to pay attention to the new arrivals.

Wolves, indeed. The family looked as he'd expected from the information gathered by his sources. Far less guarded than the royal family, he'd been able to learn much about them. In particular, Leliana seemed an interesting young woman - if completely crazy. Of any of them, though, she was the only one who had piqued his interest. Perhaps in the near future he would get the chance to challenge her to a friendly bout of archery or even a hunt, but for now, there was not much to do but follow protocol.

Ah, yes, Jamie's gift. Since he was already quite familiar with the contents of that morose container, Kervall took the opportunity to very carefully study the reactions given. He cast a critical eye over the expressions on the faces of those gathered, and carefully made mental notes of what followed. Kurt was very used to the court dealings in the Eyrie, and this was hardly different. If you paid attention to only what was said and given at face value, you would find yourself with a dagger sprouting between your shoulder-blades or face down in a bowl of cold soup within a week. Of particular interest to him were the reactions of the King, and of Lionel. Of course, Lionel had - as Jamie - made all the sympathetic and idealistic noises that had to be made in such an instance, but he didn't believe a word of it. He heard the two boys mumble words to each other, probably both vulgar and violent, but his eyes were on the throne. King Damian was no fool, and he would never succeed at manipulating the man. Deceiving him, however, was another matter entirely. Kurt noted with great interest at how graciously he accepted the gift. He only wished he could be there when they spoke of the items in private.

For the sake of due diligence, he cast his eyes down the line of the royal family to gauge their reactions, but was neither surprised nor interested in most of what he saw there. Raban, however, was staring unabashedly at the sword with such a look in his eyes that gave Kervall pause. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he recognized and lauded that look. It went beyond pure desire, or the abject and crude want to possess yet another 'thing'. It was imagination. The boy was not even looking at the sword any longer - the thing had no doubt sparked a cascade of images inside his mind, and currently he was on the deck of a ship cutting through pirates with it, or scaling an impossible mountain slaughtering dragons, or charging through the gods knew what vile monsters the boy slayed in his dreams. For a moment, he remembered his own childhood, and one particular mess he'd landed in. He had probably been very young, the memory was primal, nothing more than a few visuals and sounds. A found 'treasure', probably nothing more than a broom; a shattered piece of pottery or other delicate; the feeling pure panic and haste to hide the damage; his father's laughter, and his mother's disapproval. Adventure, at a young age.

The ephemeral moment was gone soon, as he was quickly distracted by a servant approaching him and giving him a message. It was nearly time to get ready for the festivities, tonight. It was time to start wrapping things up, here.