While his wife concerned herself with the finer aspects of this gathering, Cyprian had taken to the courtyard, where he often surrounded himself with his coterie of masculinity. They were not all of royal blood, and that was something unusual for a member of such an old and prestigious bloodline. Instead, they were almost exclusively men of notable athleticism, those who were capable of keeping up with their King's insatiable appetite for the hunt and other such activities.
Presently, he found himself in a stalemate, his sword clashing against that of one such companion while the noblemen of Thirmos talked amongst themselves. Little progress was made by either man. Each blow was effortlessly deflected. Perhaps said impasse would have lasted a bit longer if one of the King's aides had not run up at that point.
"Y-your Grace?" the boy stuttered, realizing that it was truly impossible to interrupt without making it seem like interrupting. Cyprian's opponent, caught off guard by the messenger, gave Cyprian the perfect chance to swoop in, his sword forcing his opponent's away so that, in just a heartbeat, the King held the flat of his blade against the man's neck.
"Yes, boy?" Cyprian replied curtly, making no effort to appear courteous as he sheathed the sabre in his hand.
"The Royal Family of Sevaviel is near." The King nodded, his hand resting against the pommel of his sword. His court, still stationed in clusters around him, filed in behind him as he walked towards the gates. In a way, the procession seemed similar to the one coming up the road to Thirmos's castle. However, those of common birth quickly fell back, and the other noblemen trickled down into their respective social groups until Cyprian walked alone, a handful of guards a few paces behind.
Cyprian was not the last to arrive, thankfully. Not that he would be scolded by anyone, but he knew he had an image to present on such a momentous day. It would be a shame to start off poorly. On the topic of poor starts, he noticed Luras was still absent. The King glanced over his shoulder, smiling back at his two younger children who had staggered themselves a bit behind their parents. Before he could address them, Luras filtered through the crowd and found his way up front with Cyprian and Anne.
"Out hunting again?" he questioned, looking the boy over with a glint of humor in his eyes. He knew nothing of the girl that Luras had been seeing. Instead, he only aimed to ease the tension that was very noticeably congealing in the air around them. Truly, he did assume his son had been out on a hunt. The teenager had no chance to reply, for the carriage appeared then, evoking a great cry from the assembled peoples.
Emmaline had always possessed a sort of beauty that grew only more intense as she grew up. She had always been a beautiful soul, but somehow she seemed more elegant, despite her grief, than she had before. He reasoned that the new title was the reason. Years before, the young woman would have curtsied low, but now she simply inclined her head, to which Cyprian replied, offering a well-intentioned smile.
"Thirmos welcomes you, as well as your family, Queen Emmaline," he replied, returning her courtesies. Cyprian turned his attention to Alessandra first, taking her hand gently in his to place a kiss against the back of it. It was meant to be a sign of support for the women. She was most certainly still grieving, as could be inferred from her black clothing. "It is a pleasure to have you back in Thirmos. We all mourn for the loss of your husband." Was that a lie? He couldn't tell. It certainly sounded nice though. His attention turned to Madeline, and he watched her, waiting for her to curtsy. When she did not, he simply nodded in her direction.
To his side, Luras ran through the motions like a well-trained dog. Pride forced another smile to Cyprian's lips. He had certainly molded into an impressive boy, hadn't he? When it came time to retreat to the castle, he allowed the prince to take the lead, which he did eagerly and in a practiced manner. Anne and Alessandra quickly struck up a conversation, as did Emmaline and Loras.
There was little to be found for a man like Cyprian in such mild conversation. On the other hand, perhaps he only found it difficult to find a niche in this environment. On a hunt, he would have no problem starting conversations no different than those going on around him. He had never been comfortable inside. His childhood had been one so full of outside excursions, forceful attempts to provide him with new past times, that he turned to them for some form of solace or relief. Thusly, he tapped he foot a bit anxiously as he waited in silence. Some seats over, Lucille gave a soft yawn. He might have overlooked it, but then the poor girl flushed deeply and excused herself swiftly. He almost made her return, but thought better of it when he reasoned that Anne might scold the girl.
Before him, a cup of tea sat, and Cyprian slowly picked it up. He had little want for the tea, but he wanted to look good before these guests, so he sipped slowly from the cup. A quick glance about the room brought him to the realization that only Madeline and Lucas remained partnerless in the small conversations that had popped up. Given the fact that he was still trying to get to know these guests, those who would be bound to him through the marriage of the young couple a few seats away, he turned to Madeline, who was close to her mother. "I do hope the journey here was not too long nor too tiresome," he began, gently trying to make small talk in a manner he hoped did not come off as awkward or bothersome.