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Snippet #2585942

located in Tibera, a part of The Price of Blood, one of the many universes on RPG.

Tibera

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Christoph Edwards Character Portrait: Nicholas Brigham Character Portrait: Evelyne Spyre Character Portrait: Priscilla Augusta Edwards
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Christoph, as per usual and to no one's surprise, had carefully placed Priscilla on one side of Nicholas and himself on the other at the start of the banquet. Other than these brief moments of familiarity, the coronation overall was an unusual scene for all involved. Ostwall hardly allowed outsiders into the kingdom, let alone the palace. In fact, many nobles would not see the royals save the decennial celebration. Very occasionally would the northern tribesmen migrate all the way to Falor's palace for a celebration. Perhaps a wedding or a coronation might be enough. Ulfric had been quite public, despite his conservative ways. His son was only more so.

Coronations were unheard of in Ostwall. Christoph was intelligent enough to know that. Already, the new King was proving himself to be different than his predecessors. He looked about slowly, clever eyes taking in as much as he could.

Priscilla, on the other hand, looked about in a more carefree manner. She hardly even noticed the strand of hair that had fallen lose from her intricate hairstyle until she looked back at Nicholas and it flew into her face. Hastily, she tucked it away and beamed at her future husband. "Do you suppose our wedding shall be an affair as grand as this?" she asked, her voice a bit too overexcited and bubbly. She looked about at the people dancing and nearly dared to ask Nicholas to dance with her, but she decided against it, resolving that her father might not want her to. Then she worried that perhaps he would want her to ask her future husband to dance with her, in which case she ought to say something.

Christoph cut Priscilla off just as she began to open her mouth. "I remember when Ulfric took the throne of Ostwall," he mused. "Only two years his senior, and now he's dead. So soon these monarchs die..." He looked to Nicholas then. "He's eight years your senior, this king, yet I must admit he has far more to learn than you ever did when your father died." He folded his hands and looked once more at Ronan, smiling down at the child in his lap. "What is your opinion of the new King of Ostwall?"