The Sworn Sword Swap

[rassafraggin]

Although the Deep Courts of Rebma are held early in the afternoon to take advantage of natural light, the waters above the city have lately been all cloudy with tremendous migrational swarms of prey fish. In spite of the constant flashing of silver scales throughout the roiling storm, its shadow hangs over the capital in an uninterrupted pall.

Without the gold of Amber's full sun streaming down through the domed glassworks, the Throneroom of the Deep must bask instead in the glow of arcane braziers tended by royal Aquatic Adepts; dancing white spots of flame in the corners and along the walls, their illumination reflected in the lustre of every faceted surface until the hall is bathed in a surreal blue-green haze.

For the summer months, the hall was the place of daily pageantry for Palace officials and the privileged retinue of the royal household congregating to enjoy the performances of minstrels and other entertainers. The smiles have been somewhat strained, as even the lofty courtiers know of the tension and turmoil occurring beneath the blithe facade that Rebma so often presents to its outsiders.

Now the grand room is duly packed, the sea's nobility lining their bannered balconies and murmuring to one another over the peculiar sightings within the audience. A greater presence of military groups to be certain; not only Rebma's own army leaders, but officials from the fighting forces of Deep Peoples throughout the undersea empire, standing grimly fin to fin throughout the gathering.

Dirk slides into the back and shifts into a furry floozy long haired black cat. He curls up and floats near the floor with his long fur floating in the water.

As nobles and their entourages begin to get to their places, Martin can be spied walking in with the Dilwens. Deep in conversation with one of the historians. Of note to some, perhaps, is that he is presently wearing the Sword of Rebma, and not his usual blade. The Prince takes an oddly shaped tablet from the historian and quickly looks though it, then pockets it in his pack. It's got five uneven sides rather than four and looks like it might have been broken at some point. "I'll get to it after court, thank you. Good job." He promises the man, patting his shoulder. Someone nearby, murmurs disdainfully about the man not even being a lord of Dilwen, and suspiciously younger than most historians, why is the Prince wasting his time, etc etc. The attention Martin is giving to a commoner before the start of court does not go unnoticed, but is not unusual, given that who he is. Those who know him well might notice there is a touch of concern in his eyes. His wife, The Princess Miriam of Tir is usually at his side, how curious. Whatever is distracting him, causes him to perhaps not have a smile that reaches his eyes, though he does his best and waves with a sincere friendly expression to all and sundry as a good Prince should.

From overhead within a slight recess, the tonal instruments of the royal musicians send a steady but subdued pulse of local anthems into the waters, in honor of the Houses and allies present.

Dirk slides into the back of the crowd and shifts into his cat form. He quietly finds a place to float and watch the crowd and events to come. His long black fur floats around him in a dark halo. This cat is cool though and does not mutter a sound.

Ruby has come to Court in attire that means mostly business rather than beautification. A one-piece black swimsuit provides modesty over her tall frame, stretching to accomodate and in turn accentuates. The garment has an oily sheen. Wrapped about her waist is naval webbing, though she is unarmed. Her noggin is the only area where there's some purposely laid ornamentation. Her hair is tied back and braided from the scalp. At approximately the top her head and traveling back to the nape of her neck her hair is enveloped by a silver net of fine chain. Two lengths of chain descend either side of her temples and end in weighted teardrops.

Ruby had come in the company of Wynter, and with things as packed as they are, she had secured a spot for the both of them to stand in attendance.

Damascus floats in at the very back of the auditorium and with ease, floats high just to watch in long, eel-like coils. Occasionally, he undulates to rise or fall.

Wynter dresses in a similar suit as Ruby but blue in color with a wrap of silver cloth about her hips. Her hair tied back with a simple leather strap but the tresses after wrapped in a weighted chain of gold with a small ruby glinting from the chain's end.

Merrisol is present in his capacity as Warden, monitoring the court from a side cluster comprised of several newly-minted undersea rangers, his modest Begman submarine crew, and his spouse, Captain Flame (Maggie). He speaks amongst his own group, offers a nod here and there across the setting to those he recognizes in passing, and is otherwise still and watchful.

Dirk sees the Damascus dragon and quickly swims to ruin and finds a cool to almost touch but not quite. He still stays silent.

Merry walks in, her stride slow an unobtrusive. Her eyes take in all present, curiousity plain in her gaze. When she sees Ashby she smiles and nods in greeting. She melds into the crowd, in a spot with a good view of the proceedings.

Melina stands as close to the front as sh can without being in a place inappropriate for visitors. For she is no one of note here. The position taking is a purely practical one. The short woman wants to see

Bounding steps and plenty of exuberance carry Ashby de'Mandrake on into the Throne Room. For today, the Legendary Amber Army soldier-turned-Duke has left the Courtly armor at home, opting instead for one of the many opulent doublets in his wardrobe. Why, he is even completely unarmed in this setting, having also left his saber elsewhere! Blue eyes dance about the interior, taking in the inhabitants with a giddy sort of energy as a wild grin settles into place. Quite immediately they lock onto a familiar face, notes of mischief show in his grin, and he bounds on over in the direction of Ruby and Wynter, cutting his way on through the crowd with ease, dishing out a cheery nod of his head to others along the way before eventually bellowing, "Princess Ruby and Wynter! How *good* it is to see you both again and might I say how *ravishing* you both look this fine day! How *does* the day find you?" That one familiar face he had nodded to back there along the way, Merry, nags somewhere at the back of his amnesia-addled mind, causing him to look back over his shoulder again with some curiosity.

Scaly fierce Tritons are the notable guards at the edges of the dais, the archways, and slowly patroling the upper reaches as though to demonstrate how threats in Rebma can come from all sides, but especially above. To the back, a couple of the giant mermen are moving to flank the odd-shaped dragon and determine its identity and level of sentience before outright ousting it from the throne room in the manner one would shoo a blundering manatee from a mirror shop. At that point however, the music crescendos into jarring majestic fanfare, practically rock and roll. They are playing Prince Martin's anthem, the maestro having spotted the Prince Marshal's arrival at court proper. Several moments later, the theme segues gracefully into the Queen's gentler royal hymn.

RPG: Merry declares that she has the Magic Sense (MAG-SE) gift.

Ruby feels a year from her life get shocked away at the sudden greeting. Eyes widening as she pivots to regard the famous Ashby. "Fff-" Her answering greeting is not suave like his Dukeness and she flounders hard. Summoning a second attempt she manages, "Duke de'Mandrake, let me pre-sent..." Blorp, he already knows obviously. "It foinds me foine! Good tah see you in this wet press, Truth."

Wynter smiles and gives Ashby a curtsy worthy of the court they find themselves in. "Duke Ashby. Pleasure to see you again." She glances up and over her shoulder at Ruby and grins again. "Indeed. Most fine, good sir."

Martin straightens when he's greeted by sounds he appreciates. He gives the underwater orchestra a thumbs up as he swims effortlessly in the water towards his place to the side of the throne. If he can get the Herald's attention, he speaks briefly and privately to them with a slight sense of urgency in his manner. He hasn't greeted anyone personally yet, perhaps something important is on his mind. It's not usual behavior.

A supremely merry laugh echoes from deep down in Ashby's chest as he nods at each greeting, replying to them both by touching one hand to his chest, tossing the other off to his side in a flamboyant gesture, and then bowing deeply. "Indeed and likewise! It's been quite some time since I was here last and it is downright *refreshing* to be back! That cold embrace of the water when you first get in does wonders for the constitution and reminds you you're alive!" The music steals his attention as his head swivels that way and his volume drops to something more proper. "Ah, wonderful. How prompt!"

Merry watches the greetings, trying not to draw attention too much. She does move toward Duke Ashby, in an attempt to greet him. When she draws close she smiles. Quietly, she says "Duke Ashby, it is good to see my most famous student again. It's been what, two centuries or so? I hope to..." What she hopes to do is lost to the depths, as the music interrupts her and she falls silent, her attention rapt on the proceedings.

Ruby is nodding along to Wynter and Ashby like every third vowel needed a head bob to acknowledge them. The changing of tunes that escalate in royalty have her craning her head to watch Martin, and then look towards the entrance of presumably you-know-who. Her jaws clench and she stares from under her brows.

Preceded and followed by her handmaidens who appear solely focused on addressing the mobile challenges of the monarch's long train of minty tresses and the complex gossamer cloak-gown she wears, Queen Moire steps from a restricted archway to pass the front line of honored dignitaries. She sweeps them all a lidded gaze of acknowledgement, then before she turns away to mount the dais and take the coral throne, her eyes lift to fix the gathering with collected austerity. The process of seating and arrangement of mane and garb is something like an interlude of underwater ballet to witness. At that point, the music drops away and the officials and nobility seat themselves, starting with the clergy to Moire's left and royal household to the right.

The herald is left somewhat flustered by Martin's whisper and approaches from the side to murmur to the queen. She inclines her chin, wordlessly dismissing him back to his position before the main audience.

His name! Ashby de'Mandrake always does love to hear that and his head snaps around almost immediately with a devilish grin already in place. His eyebrows raise with hints of the earlier curiosity as he listens and then his eyes narrow while he searches that spotty memory of his. Clearing his throat, he says with eyes wandering to watch the Queen while he speaks in a low tone, "Ah, my past life! I'd thought I had some vague spark of recognition, though I must confess that you have me at a bit of a disadvantage with my condition. Perhaps if you are around Rebma or Amber later on we could catch up? The Golden Goose, perhaps? The best chef in the city, I say!"

Damascus's crest and frills raise at the beginning of the fanfare, glancing at Dirk as he floats nearby and stirring the water with the tip of his tail, just enough that it boosts the cat up if he wants. Irridescent eyes blink a couple of lids each as his ears perk forward to make for a more cupped shape with the membranes.

Melina watches the proceedings carefully having noted frieds and family as the entered, family getting longe glances and smiles, the duke chantris, her cousin damascus and even her husband dirk fall within this grouping though by the time the music starts gaze is firmly fixed to the entrance of the prince and the queen

Martin bows his head to the Queen in reverance to her and remains in his place. He takes that moment to scan the room, smiling at familiar faces from the lands above. He looks pleased to see them all, but his gaze settles on Merrisol, Ruby and then Quinlan. The usual suspects. He hopefully manages to convey with unseen words their mostly secret 'we need to talk asap' expression. Then again, anyone who chances to spot that look might think he means them. Martin's not exactly the greatest at being sneaky.

Dirk floats higher with the gentle boost. Cats do like to watch the world from the highest vantage point possible.

Quinlan is staying quiet. There's a friggin' *queen* in the room. The fox has good reason not to trust ....oh, pretty much anything that might be inclined to make its way out of his mouth just now. But he does give Martin a tiny little nod.

Merry nods at Ashby, and says softly "I would like that. You can also find me at the palace in Amber, ask for Merry. I can often be found on the roof, painting." She holds up the tattoo'd wrist, and the tatoo corals swirl as if moved by unseen currents. She watches the queen, and Prince Martin, while speaking.

High Priestess Dryssana of the Temple of Lir is next, traditionally, to step to the dais, genuflect to the monarch and lash the court in general with blessings of approbation for the proceedings. The towering, severe cleric appears to have the natural-born talent for spotting the trouble magnets in the room and laying an ocular anvil onto their heads. The burst of musical fanfare introducing the Herald is tepid in comparison.

Ruby furrows her brows after catching a glance at Martin. Her bottom lip starts to protrude little by little as she groks the possible message. She utters a quiet and subdued grunt, leveling her gaze upon the Priestess next.

Boasting both Observant eagle eyes AND a swelled head that barely fits through the door, Ashby de'Mandrake naturally assumes the look intended for Ruby was destined for him. Nothing else could even be fathomed! Looking right back, Ashby cracks off a sly nod in reply to let the Prince know that he has his back. Turning his head slightly, his eyes flick over for a quick glance at the offered tattoo, and he nods as his attention snaps back over toward the action. Still in tone so low most would think the Monsdrake completely incapable of it, he replies, "Fine work, I must say! I can't say I've been at the Palace in..... my, well over a year now, but I can certainly send the carriage around for you when I'm back in Amber!"

The Herald's voice rings out: "The Deep Court of Her Royal, Most Revered Majesty, Queen Moire, welcomes all who come in kinship and as friends of the great undersea empire, Rebma! On this Fair Tide there shall be time and opportunity granted to those who have come with an expressed desire to be recognized by the Throne, and their words heard. Yet, before all else, Her Royal Majesty wishes to hear from her own grandson and Marshal of Her Armed Forces, Martin, the Crown Prince of Rebma!"

Non-chalant. Quiet. In the background, and not causing any waves (heh), Eric watches the assembled with a curious look. It had been forever, like weeks, since he was last in Rebma, and this time would be the next time he was here. At least there wasn't a Prince of Amber being tossed into the ocean...again. Leaning against the wall, Eric takes off his gloves, one at a time, and slowly.

Strange horizontal fissures ripple through the general gathering as a slippery cadre of Dolphins beak their way into any likely gap in the crowd. Once settled more or less snugly in various spots, their silver melons rise higher in order to partake of the event with shiny black button eyes and perma-grins of decidedly mischevious porpoise.

Martin's attention is centered fully upon the Queen now. He moves from where he was standing next to the throne, he doesn't immediately notice that several others might have misconstrued his attempt at subtly catching specific people's attention. No doubt he will when there's suddenly a line at his office! He bows skillfully to the Queen first, then acknowledges the clergy with another, shorter bow. He assumes the kneeling position as is her due. "Your Royal majesty, Queen beneath the waves!" He says with a clear, strong voice, conveying the great reverence he has for his grandmother. "Which news do you wish to hear first?"

Melina nearly instantly registers that one of amber's elders has entered the room. though the recognition is conscious, the straightening of posture and tension is far more reflexive, though her glance to eric is but a moment before returning to martin as he is about to speak

Merry straightens when Eric enters. She seems to start a bit, with more relatives in this room than any other room she's been in. She studies Prince Eric, until Martin speaks. If caught watching Eric she'll smile and do a slight curtsy in his direction and then turn to Prince Martin.

Ruby feels her hackles rise. Something has changed and it is making goosebumps pop out along her arms. Something terrible and anxiety inducing has entered the hall. Movement makes her turn her head this way and that until the thing resolves itself. She locates the source of her anxiety soon enough. They're heeeEEErre. Ruby spies the multiple melon-heads. She murmers under her breath, showing her teeth, "Bog's barnacles."

Wynter looks up and over to Ruby and then follows her gaze to find out what could be the matter. When she spies the dolphins she shakes her head and reaches upt to take Ruby's hand and pats it gently with the other. She stays quiet as there is court going on.

Moire's handmaids have faded back after some last-minute fussing over the justso plaiting of her gown and drape of her long locks. As the lone radiant focal point on the dais, the queen regards her heir and servant with calm attentiveness. "Your duties are many, Grandson, and the deep realm cries out for your aid from all corners. Yet, I would hear of progress in the first of your assignments. Tell us of your work to restore the Scepter of Moins, my mother and Queen Beneath the Waves before me."

Martin looks up to her Majesty. "Ah the Scepter." He remains in his position and will only rise when bidden as is custom. "I am pleased to tell you that after much hard work at House Dilwen and in the archives we have finally located writings about the Scepter. Several tablets have been found detailing the rituals. Unfortunately, many have been broken so it has taken the scribes some time to piece them together. That being said, the first ritual has been identified. It appears they must be done in order but we will confirm with House Chantris to be certain, given their gift for old languages. There are other tablets we have not yet located but we will put together teams to find them. Someone seems to have gone to a great deal of trouble to scatter them to all ends of the sea, perhaps with malicious intent, perhaps not." His words are grave as he speaks.

The Dolphin wedged closest to Ruby creeeaks its jaws open in an overly cheerful greeting display when she looks at it. It mouth-breathes, studiously ignored by most of the other Rebmans and Deep Peoples nearby.

Eric checks his nails of his right hand, just to make sure they were clean. Then he notices Melina, and Merry and takes a moment to look in their direction. With a subtle wink at Melina and a subtle smile (with nod) at Merry as she curtsies, as if Eric was ever subtle, is followed by a look up at Martin and at Moire. Then, back at Ruby and Wynter with a slight nod to each, and finally...dolphins. "Well..." Eric whispers to himself as Moire speaks. Followed by Martin. As it was, it was not the time to be...visible. So far...fail.

An almost unconscionable sin...Eric also looks at Dirk, floating there, and frowns. Then shrugs. And checks the nails of his other hand, to make sure they were clean.

There's a bit of a hubbub just outside the hall. Not the sort that might require the rushing of armed men and the secreting away of the Queen, but a hubbub nonetheless. It's the sound of people not really sure what to do about a thing, but the result is the way being cleared for the arrival of Princess Miriam. That's not normally worthy of hubbub (aside from her tardiness for Court), as she does live here, except that she drifts in and immediately towards the dias with the Sword of the Tir in her hand, rather than in a scabbard. In the presence of the Queen, in the middle of Court.

Perhaps some of it is explained by 'that' look. The look of a Seer deep in a vision. That might not be comforting, but it's an explanation for why she was let through and why the guards look to Martin to handle this instead, with an expression that says it's really not that unusual an event. Well. Walking towards the Queen and Crown Prince with a sword drawn is, though this early in the walk she could be headed towards the High Priestess, too. The only way this might possibly be less acceptable would be young Faiella's presence there as well. What's not unusual is Miriam roaming the palace lost in a vision. That happens all the time, and even more often of late.

RPG: Miriam declares that she has the Blade of the Tir (TIR-PS) gift.

Damascus's neck snakes around to look to the sound of hubbub, a draconian calm about him where he floats. Observation is the word of the moment, although 'chantris' and finding of things also was marked with a ripple of hide and scales.

Unfortunately for Eric his greeting is overshadowed by the mention of her house and ancient languages as if martin has said magic wors-no not thosewords but good enough to draw the chanris attention...until something far more mysterious happens and she watches with attention eye finding martin and merri as if they surely know what to do about such things

Quinlan is quietly...shifting. The brilliant emerald cloth, the auburn hair...as minutes pass they slowly become more drab, more...average for the room. Still fit for court, but far more 'minor Rebman functionary'. The mageling's on edge.

RPG: Quinlan declares that he has the Seeming (GLA-SM) gift.

You see! Chantris! The look had most definitely been intended for the Good Duke Ashby! The former cavalier's chest swells with pride at this mention of his fine House and sets him to nodding cheerily, looking both left and right as he does so. Oblivious to the looks between any Dolphins and the Terror of Arden standing nearby. But, a pin is placed in these thoughts as his eyes widen at the sight of Miriam wielding her sword in the open while in the grips of a vision. He has paid for his whole seat, but he uses only the edge!

Moire is silent and motionless through Martin's report, her gaze resting on him while beyond his periphery... The reaction of the Houses gathering ebbs first in consideration of the prince's giving bare clues to his adventures over the past year he's been let loose with the singular artifact of ancient power... Then the startled wave of glances and startled gestures when Princess Miriam makes her way through a parting crowd from the main archway.

"The wisdom of the Sea cannot be so easily surmised, Martin. That your quest should call you to places of great lore throughout the empire is right and just," states Moire, before her own eyes are drawn to Miriam, and the bare blade of the white sword. Her hair and the gauzy cloth of her gown, tamed until now, stir and float low in new eddies around her.

Merry is shifting her eyes from Martin to Miriam to Eric, when she blinks strongly and looks at Quinlan, an eyebrow arched. She watches as his appearance changes, smiling. "Nice bit of kit, that.", she mouths in his direction.

Ruby isn't prepared to return any sort of greeting to the Dolphin. She's saved from having to deal with it when Miriam is now in the hall and wielding a sword openly. She has a pretty good vantage height-wise, but still goes up on tip-toes. Ruby brays mightily and unnecessarily, "She's gots a bloody sword!"

If the Princess Faiella is present, she has been made to stand anonymous in the cowled line of the clergy. Perhaps she's the shortest one there, head bowed in serene meditation, unknowing of any danger.

...Until Ruby makes it resoundingly obvious, that is.

Wynter knows that look all too well. The look of omens and vissions. She pats Ruby's hand again and whispers so that Ruby can hear. "She's in thrall to omens, Ruby. She's here but not."

RPG: Eric declares that he has the Perfect Environmental Aspect (ROO-PE) gift.

Eric smiles, and was that a note of mischief? Ah yes, a sword, in the hands of a woman, in a particularly appropriate place. Not to be mischievious, but Eric concentrates, closes, his eyes, and subtly waves his hand, his sword hand, in her direction. The sowrd takes on newe dimensions, almost "Excalibur" in appearance, deadly of course, but nearly heavenly in magical dimensions. Cold. STeel. Metal. Sharp. And...glowing? All of it was a subtle push from Eric. A gift perhaps. Shiny, and grand, and a Omen, of course! Something majestic and grand!

Dirk swims till he is floating right on top of Damacus's head. He watches quietly.

Martin's gaze shifts from Miriam to Moire, out of the corner of it he notices Quinlan's shift from fox to human but he's got his attention elsewhere. "Yes..." He knows better than to try and grab Miriam, but he does approach her. "My Lady." He says with soft reverence, to try and get her attention. "I am here." He moves without rising to ensure that he would be between Moire and anything that should happen if needed. His eyes widen slightly at the sword, though of course he's had it at his side for years now, in safe keeping as per Benedict's request.

The Tritons, even those bent on tossing Damascus to the curb, zero in on the source of shock and consternation, and now are converging on the dream-walking Princess. For her own protection as much as the Queen's, of course. The timely intervention of Prince Martin causes a just-as-swift halt to their approach, the waters above stirring in a slow cyclone by their careful holding pattern.

Miriam continues her forward movement, towards the dais and those there. Others will have to move out of her way, as she seems entirely unaware of them or of the change to her seeming at the hands of the Prince of Amber, though it certainly makes what she does even more dramatic. Unaware of most everything, anyway. When Martin meets her part-way, the Princess of Tir-Na Nog'th stops. The tip of the Pattern blade comes to rest gently against his bare chest, not cutting despite the sharpness of the blade. Her own glow of moonlight joins that seeming, brighter moonlight than usual. And then, she blinks once. And focuses on Martin. She doesn't seem aware yet where she is, but to him she smiles. "Tir-Na Nog'th has spoken." she says to her husband. "The Blade is freely given from me to you, Champion of Tir." The tip is lifted from his chest. Then, then passes out. He might want to grab that sword before she hurts someone on her way down.

"Miriam!" The trust that he has for his wife is clear when he does not cringe away from her as the sword comes towards him. For years, as was known since the time that the pattern of Tir was broken and Benedict was minding Amber's Throne her deceased brother Artur, son of Brand's sword had been trusted to him but not fully his. He catches her in one arm and the sword in his free hand with a bit of graceful manuvering, he can handle himself very well in the water. Indeed, back then, Benedict had not even wanted to let Miriam leave Amber and there was no plan for her people, the Tir refugees. They were displaced and angry, rightfully so. They were invited to Rebma and Benedict trusted Martin to watch over the sword and the Princess of Tir. There was never an expectation that she let go of it fully. So this? This was big. He was overcome with emotion for a moment but he recognized the way the sword had suddenly become different, perhaps a trick? Was it Quinlan? He gives Moire an apologetic look for the interruption as he cradles his wife. "Do you know what this means?" He asks the Queen.

The tone means that Martin knows, but does she need an explanation.

Moire observes the excited goings on, so close to her position, yet with the layers of security seen and unseen between herself and the enraptured Seer, was there ever any real danger? "Take Her Highness to my parlour," she instructs without gesture, and a number of handmaids and Rebman royal guards immediately hop-to, approaching to relieve Martin of his bride, though not his shiny. Moire apparently has allowed its continued naked presence. Looking at him solemnly, she says, "The Princess of Tir has shared her true vision and desire with you. Do you accept it, Martin, and all the promise and consequence it shall bring you?"

Martin does not need to think that much about it. "Yes, yes I do." There is no hesitation in his voice. He lets the guards take Miriam but not before fondly brushing her cheek with his thumb. When she is gone he gazes at the sword, holding it in one hand and trying not to think about the way it seems different for the moment. "I remember you, Prince Artur." Perhaps it's a little strange talking to a sword, but Rebma's a little odd. He turns back to Moire. "Your Majesty, I accept Princess Miriam's true vision and desire and all the consequences of those things."

OOC> Martin says, "Game mechanics wise just a little FYI on why this is important: Miriam always had the Sword on her +sheet and it's attuned to her. Martin was always just using it. This means it will add to his +sheet and he'll be attuned."

Moire nods in true royal noncommittal fashion, as though Martin's pledging himself more deeply to the far away sky kingdom had no bearing on anything really. "Remain, and conclude your accounting of yourself and your helpmates in your mission to bring power back to Rebma. Then, as Lord Marshal of Rebma shall you attend to the news of war brought here by steadfast allies from the borders and by scouts in the shadows of our empire."

Melina watches carefully with a modicum of understanding,knowing not legends but glimpses, legends whispers..the prophecy of the fall of amber, the vision when martin and miriam wd and caine's reaction thereto. she purses her lips. face caught somewhere between smile and frown as she regards the young prince before her, holding past and future in his hand

Martin nods at Moire, "As your Majesty wills it, so shall it be." He vows. "By your leave, I request to bring forth a lady come from the realm above and the noble House of Chantris as I continue to account for my mission."

Merry watches, fascinated, and shivers, as omens scare her. She then takes out a pocket-sized field sketchbook, made specifically for Rebma to allow drawing with special pencils, and has taken out a pencil. She begins to capture the scene, quickly and deftly in great detail and exquisite quality. This will be the sketch used to make a fine painting to gift the Royal House of Rebma one day soon.

Ruby purses her lips like she just bit into a basket of lemons. She hoists an arm and lowers it towards the dias where Martin takes on additional oaths. Ruby over enunciates in a whisper that's too loud to really be one, to Ashby, his old comrade from years gone, and Wynter. "Now ~e's~ got tha bloody sword!" Going all Pepe Silvia.

Dirk claps his front paws together for Martin. He purrs a little for one of his oldest friends.

Moire consents with a browlift. The audience, newly settled after Miriam's hubbub, shuffles in anticipation of permitting the indicated lady passage to the front, once Martin reveals her identity. Enough with the suspense, Marty!

Martin sheathes the sword at his belt, somewhat awkwardly, then turns. His eyes search the crowd briefly until they settle on none other than Lady Melina Solaris. He swims to her position while all eyes in the court swivel to look to her. He gallantly offers her his hand, a gentle, encouraging smile on his face. "Please allow me to introduce you to the Queen, my lady."

Melina blinks for just a moment and takes martin's hand and allows him to lead her forward, the automaticity of etiquette and training overcoming her shock

Damascus arches his neck again, this time upward for a better view. All swanny and frilly and otherwise very still in the waters. Melina has his attention.

Dirk blinks and folds his paws with a look of feline disinterest as he watches every move Melina makes. Whiskers and tail twitch quickly with feline agitation.

Eric simply nods, frowns, does a quick bow towards Martin, and shakes his head. "Curiouser and curiouser." Another fun time in Rebma!