of copper and blades

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE,

THE FEAST WAS impressive to say the least, the dozens of dishes and meals placed across the table, servants bringing on new meals every second. And suddenly Justine understood the people crowded outside Vanhen Palace, waiting for the leftovers. Because there was absolutely no way they were finishing all of this. At least half of this would go to waste, which was a pity. She almost felt the need to critique it—it was such a waste of food and resources, especially since the world was on the brink of war.

But she didn't. This wasn't Sai, and if this was Sai, Ryan would have started screaming about two days ago.

Irina was treated with clear respect. Anywhere she walked people curtsied and bowed. Justine bowed to almost everyone, since she was arguably of lowest social rank among this bunch. She had no family background, only the backing of Irina and her military accomplishments. Which was nothing in comparison to people here.

They had those like Gabriel, the younger son of a duke and who had just as many, if not more, military accomplishments as her. She had no right to be proud and arrogant. Carefulness was the way to go.

"I heard about the little mishap on your trip," Prince Stephen said, leaning towards Irina to speak to Justine, who was just next to the princess.

"Ah, Gabriel must have filled you in."

"Such a pity, the sailors." Stephen looked sad for a little while, but then quickly recovered, most likely so that courtiers would not see his expression and start assuming things. They could practically feel the eyes on them. Guessing. Observing. Speculating. The whole collection. They were used to it, of course, but it did not make it any more comfortable to endure. "I am just glad you're all alright. And the good news from Lady Archsham..."

"Something very much worth celebrating," Justine agreed. "I presume she and Lord Archsham will return to Arecia soon. They wouldn't want her travelling while she's heavily pregnant."

"Of course, of course, we'll be expecting her soon here, then, although she might better enjoy the peace and quiet."

"Cirinique is a social butterfly," Irina laughed. "She would not be able to stand being away from people for too long. She will most definitely visit the court once she returns."

"That is if Lord Archsham lets her," Justine said wryly.

"If she insists, do you think he can stop her?" Irina asked, turning to her, one narrow brow raised.

Justine gave it some thought, and then shook her head. Considering Ciri's particular set of skills... no, Laurence Dumont stood no chance.

And a short visit to Arecia wouldn't hurt her by any means. Ciri had resided here for many years and was a welcomed and familiar face around the Arecians. She had many friends here. No, she had many friends everywhere. Like Irina said, Ciri was a diplomat. Her entire career was built on her relations and her social life. She befriended people everywhere she went, in the most unlikely of places, because they could all be turned into allies or sources of information. That was always very useful. While Cass served in the shadows, Ciri served in the light, the perfect socialite.

"The food isn't as bad as I thought it would be," Justine said in a laughing tone. "I've heard so much about the... poor quality of Arecian food, but this is a feast for the tastebuds."

"Well," Stephen joked, "it's nothing compared to Saian meals... but it is not very bad if I say so myself. We're quite proud of the cooks around here."

"You ought to be. This is delicious."

There was chatter all around, and Justine estimated at least a hundred people or so present in the room. Probably more. And that was excluding the servants popping in and out. It was crowded, extremely so, and the clinkings of cups and the vacuous laughter filled the chamber.