Vern, Devo, an extraordinary Oakhaven bloodhound, 2 Novice Keaton Huntsmen arrive, following Kael.

4 Novice Keaton Huntsmen, Oaken, an Oakhaven bloodhound, Gigi, an apprentice physician's assistant, Marie, chef of Keaton Hall, Orin, a Felhound Sergeant, Kael arrive, following Reigna.

Marie, chef of Keaton Hall have been dismissed.

Oaken, an Oakhaven bloodhound have been dismissed.

Orin, a Felhound Sergeant have been dismissed.

The Ambassador's Salon is unchanged save for the drinks are covered (unless one has expensive taste) and a little buffet has been set up in the corner with bite-size snacks made for munching while circulating and mingling.

Margret is standing between the bar and entrance to strategically greet people without crowding them when they come into the door, a drink in her hand.

Entering on the arm of her husband, Reigna Keaton arrives, looking excited and wearing a gown of seasilk and leather. She is chattering excitedly to her husband as they enter the Salon, "I can hardly believe the positive news coming in from Whisper's Landing and Elmhurst! This is far better than I even hoped to think would be possible. Oh, and bless you for coming with me tonight and thank you again for insisting I leave the little ones at home." Reigna pauses her babble to look around appreciatively, searching out her assistant guildmaster and host of the evening.

Alaric strolls in to the Salon, much like he does on other occasions. But today he seems extra chuffed to be here. Might be because he's a major funder of the Physician's Guild and all and attending their gathering today! Never hurts to be the big bankroller. "It's too bad we couldn't get Sir Miles to attend today. I'm sure he would have enjoyed himself," he tells Paloma as they proceed towards Margret. "Lady Margret, so good to see you tonight, thank you for hosting," he declares positively. "This is Dame Paloma, captaining my detail today, by the by," he introduces her.

Paloma turns her attention away from scanning the room when the King mentions her. She puts on a brief smile that doesn't quite touch her eyes before falling to a business like expression again. "I will share my report with him. It will be as if he were here."

"Reigna, I would be nowhere else," murmurs Kael in assurance to his wife, shaking his head and looking toward her in a most rueful manner. He looks, for just a moment, as though he might steal a kiss to her brow but he manages to refrain. Nay, instead he is moving with her to greet the host with a bow of his head in most humble manner. "Good evening, Lady Greenmarch. Thank you for hosting such a lovely event." Ah, and there is of course the King, thus Kael is delivering a deep bow that is kept just so when he spies him.

"Guildmaster. Count Keaton. How lovely to see you both!" Margret says to Reigna when she sees the woman enter with a smile. And she may have said more, but while Reigna is her boss Alaric controls the pursetrings. "Your majesty!" She says in delighted surprise before curtsying. "Oh, we are so thrilled to have you! And you as well, Dame Paloma. Would anyone like me to get them a drink?" She looks between the four before adding, "And we have snacks over there! Do have sure you try them the little beef pies are a delight."

Reigna beams up at her husband, the light of deepest affection and love plain for all to see. Though as they approach Lady Margret, and the King happens to be there, she is dropping into a deep and elegant curtsy, no longer hampered by pregnancy and able to do it properly. "Your Majesty! It is an honor to see you! Lady Margret, this is lovely, thank you so much for hosting!"

Alaric smirks cheerfully. "I'll try to steer us away from any herbs and anatomical terms that are dreadfully tricky to spell, then," the King deadpans to Paloma. "Well now, hello again Count and Countess Keaton," he declares sociably to Kael and Reigna as they arrive. "Running into you all over. Although I suppose that's what happens when one of you is the Guildmaster and the other is the..." He trails off thoughtfully. "What would you call the head of an Academy? Provost? Chancellor?" he muses aloud. "Well, no matter the title, I deeply appreciate your philanthropic efforts here in the city. You do House Keaton and the Oathlands great credit."

2 Armed Confessors, Nirav, the nearly silent arrive, following Elloise.

2 Armed Confessors have been dismissed.

Paloma inclines her head politely to Lady Margret when addressed, saying nothing to the offer of a drink. Instead her head turns to consider Count Keal and Countess Reigna as the King speaks to them. Silently watching.

It is only when the king acknowledges him that Kael is actually rising from that deep bow and regaining his full height once more. There is a moment of clear deliberation before he is saying, as though edging toward humor, "I believe, Your Majesty, that you might call anything that you wish. As for the position, I will be holding the Chair of War while Natalia Whisper will be the Chair of Diplomacy. Or at least this was one of the primary considerations. It does not matter however, so long as the result is the same in the end and some good is done." He tips his head. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he murmurs in turn to the compliment. With that, he steps back with Reigna in case Alaric wishes to move on.

Jacali stands somewhere near the back alongside Vandred, the only evidence that she's something more than a statue at the moment being the ragged breath that enters and leaves her with an audible wheeze. Pale eyes watch the goings on, focusing only momentarily upon the more 'esteemed' of guests, her lips pressed to a tight line as she considers the apparent level of refinement required for an event of this sort. Certainly, she does not match it. Her gaze turns to the fellow nearby her, "Might be out of my depth, me, just might." She murmurs, one hand lifting to idly scratch at the back of her head, leaving the most elegant of all rats nests to tangle there. "Don't even got a title, us, ol' White Jackal 'n all." She allows to him, doing her best to not interrupt the others.

There is no mistaking the flush of pleasure in Reigna's expression at the King's praise and she ducks her head, "We love the Compact your Majesty, and we try to do our best for our people and the people of Arx and beyond." There is a brilliant happiness about the Countess, a warmth about her that just radiates that genuine joy to those around her. She offers Margret a wink, before stepping back in sync with Kael and casting a look around the room. Her gaze falls on Jacali curiously, offering the other woman that same sunny smile.

Reedy, a King's Own aide arrives, following Corban.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Elloise before departing.

Alaric nods a light approval. "Chairman, then," he declares as if it's all settled then. Royal pronouncements have a way of doing that. "Your best has been quite excellent indeed," he replies to Reigna. "And thank you for the suggestions," he tells Margret appreciatively before nodding to Paloma. "Come along then, Paloma, let's see how many of those beef pies you can eat," he declares industriously as he leads the way off to gather up some refreshments before his party ventures forth. To the far couches, probably.

Alaric has joined the Far rear couches.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Elloise before departing.

Paloma dutifully follows her King to the couches, saying something quietly to her liege as she takes a spot standing next to the couch rather than sitting comfortably.

Paloma has joined the Far rear couches.

Sir Corban Telmar clomps into the Ambassador Salon in his rubicund armor, which must mean that he is on duty. Joining the other rubicund-wearing knights strategically stationed around the area, he catches just the last bit of the King's statement to his colleague. "Being forced to eat for His Majesty too, now, Dame Paloma?" He arches a brow.

Corban has joined the Far rear couches.

Vandred looks a bit more awkward than Jacali. If by a bit, you mean downright uncomfortable. He's already properly acquired the requisite hunch of the individual who just lugs around the heavy equipment, the hired help, and being stuck beside Jacali doesn't help at all. "No." He offers, unhelpfully. "I'm feeling a bit peaked. Going to be honest." Comes afterwards, and he does a remarkable job of looking at absolutely nobody at all. His feet are apparently remarkably interesting, considering the amount of staring down at them he is managing. "It's a bit," He states, before nudging his elbow in the direction of the royal procession. "You know."

As Alaric and the Keatons converse Margret's attention shifts to Jacali and Vandred. She smiles warmly in their direction before saying, "Excuse me just a moment." Then she starts towards Jacali and Vandred. "Hello! I'm Lady Margret. Are you interested in the guild?" This is followed by a very concerned, "Would you like something to drink? We also have delightful little beef pies. You must give them a try." She continues smiling in her sunny manner as if she doesn't notice at all that they are uncomfortable.

Sir Corban is clearly on duty so perhaps that is the reason that Kael refrains from intercepting him. Nonetheless as the King strolls on he is regarding the Telmar and offering him a vague chin up and slight smile. It is a small acknowledgement, but still. It might as well be grand flailing waving hand motions in such circumstances. Glancing back to his host and his wife, the former is offered another inclination of his head before he murmurs to the latter, "Would you care for something to drink?" He leads her further into the Salon.

Elloise darts into the Salon, the energy about her is quick and frenetic and she comes to a very (very, very) short stop and looks around in order to get a feel for what's going on. This is a valiant try - so she needs to speak up, "Seeking clarification. Is this the Phy --" she shuts up, fast, when Margret's speaking to Jacali and Vandred answers her question. She beams: a lot of smile in a very small face and breathes out relief, "Good evening. I am Lady Elloise Leary, you may call me Elly and it's a pleasure to meet you again, Lady Margret. Yes, I am interested in the guild." She turns, politely, to address Jacali and Vandred. Waving at them, "Hi."

Corban does, however, give Kael a smile as he passes by and inclines his head to him, greeting the Keaton count before he turns towards the little gathering in the couches.

ReignaLifts a hand to wave to Corban, flashing him a warm smile as they pass and she looks up to Kael with a nod, "Perhaps just water? It is my night with Talis." She seems happy enough to simply drift through the Salon, enjoying the atmosphere, though as Lady Elloise arrives there is a lifting of her brows and a pause and a blink. "Ah. Are we not meeting her sister later this evening?"

At Reigna's smile, an uncertain replica forms on Jacali's lips -- rather, her upper lip lifts just a bit in what may pass as some approximation of a smile: an attempt was made. Her brows lift, as though they should offer some hurculean effort at pulling the corners of her mouth further up in jubilent display to no avail. Still, a hand lifts to give a coy wiggly-fingered wave toward the woman, the fingerless leather of her glove doing little to elevate her in the eyes of her betters. When the King moves to leave, her hand retreats into one of her coat's many pockets, head bowing shallowly, quickly in his passing. The breath she was unwittingly holding is let out in a rattled sigh once the royal party has passed, an arm quickly raised so that she might issue into the inner edge of her elbow a wracking cough, her eyes squeezing shut and tearing up in the process. When she hears Margret's address, her eyes snap open and she takes in a sharp breath as though to answer. That sharp inhale, however, causes her to start choking anew, turning away from the woman just long enough to collect herself. "Ah! Ah-heh-hem," She straightens her back, running her hands down over the front of her coat, "We, that is to say, I and him, he and me, we all are new to the, er..." She trails off as Elloise introduces herself, her silence maintained well after the other lady has stopped talking, "... I am an apothecary, you see, and he is my, er..." Her hand rolls in a lazy circle as she thinks of the appropriate words, "... Assistant." Sure. That checks out. "Jacali, me, my name that is, most pleased to make your acquaintence, chickadee."

Reigna is overheard praising Margret: Hosting a delightful get together and providing an opportunity for us Healers to get together and mingle without (hopefully) any blood.

Vandred does his best approximation of a polite bow. It's stiff and out of sort, holding it for just a moment. "Lady." He offers to Margret, ensuring that he doesn't make proper eye contact. Then there's another Lady - and the gesture is repeated again, "Lady." - with the same tone and all. He doesn't seem to notice, nor properly comment on Jacali's mode of speech. "I help carry and move the equipment. Hold people down. I'm sorry. We're a little out of sorts." There is a brief attempt at a smile, while he stares at the ground with a sharp focus.

"Arcadia? She wants to join the guild? I didn't know that she wanted to be a physician. I wrote to a, uhm, Countess-Consort Keaton who is the Guildmaster and she said that I could find her and ask a few questions. Maybe." Quieter, "I interrupted, didn't I? Many apologies. Too enthusiastic. Something of an unfortunate bad habit. I need manners. Etiquette."

When Lady Elloise is pointed out to him -- mind you, Kael missed the introduction -- there is a curious look cast in that direction. His answer is perhaps too honest a thing, an easy roll of just his right shoulder in a lazy shrug. "If she is her sister," Kael murmurs in answer to his wife, perhaps a hint of amusement visible in his gaze with his answer. Though the reminder does have him looking for a window so that he can consider the hour. When Elloise is however saying the name 'Arcadia,' there is a nod of his head, just so. "Lady Leary," he greets her. "I am Count Keaton, and this is my wife, the Countess," and he is shooting Reigna a look, "Keaton."

"Are you alright?" Margret asks Jacali when the woman begins coughing, and her brows furrow in concern. As she introduces herself she smiles again. "Oh, an apothecary! What part of the city are you working in?" She smiles to Vandred before she says, "Holding people down is an underrated skill. One time I was setting a broken leg and got backhanded right in the mouth!" That little tidbit shared she smiles to Elloise, "Hello. I'm Lady Margret. The Guildmaster is over there-" She nods her head in Reigna's direction. "And we could always chat about it as well. And I thought the messages that came today were from Lady Elloise?" This is directed to Reigna.

Oswyn rushes in, adjusting the strap of his satchel over his shoulder. Is he late? He's probably late. But now he's here! And he takes a few moments to squint uselessly at the people already present.

Reigna looks back at Kael as if sharing in some joke, her eyes gleaming bright, despite their ink-black color. She turns back to Jacali, a little tinge of concern about the hacking cough, though she's been pointed out by Kael and Margret, she too, bows her head to Elloise, "Ah, yes, hello there Lady Leary." There is a slight pause on that name, but her smile seems genuine enough. "Ah, I do not know if your sister has a desire to join the guild, but she has asked to speak to Kael and I this evening. It is indeed nice to meet you. Considering I only have a few minutes before we must depart back to Keaton Hall to meet Lady Arcadia, I would be glad to meet with you tomorrow during my morning rounds at Saving Grace, or else you are more than welcome to speak with Lady Margret."

"Mm?" Jacali's brow raises, clearing her throat one final time. "Oh. Yes, yes, of course, it's nothing." Her breath still rattles and wheezes, but her posture is not one that suggests ill health, nor is the colour to her cheeks or smooth quality of her skin. Curious, that. When she is asked about the location of her work, there's a vague shift of her gaze toward the ground that might suggest shame to the skilled observer. She leans forward, almost conspiratory, her tone low in the lively coversing of the room at large. "Eh, the... lower boroughs," It seems less a suggestion of the unsavory activities, and more of not wanting to admit how low down on the totem pole she is, what with lords and ladies and kings and their menageries puttering about. Still, the young woman manages a meager smile just the same as the one before. "Caught my fair share of backhandings, me, I have, have indeed. But, healers are needed in the darkest of places, ey? Ey? 'Course they are, and that's me, it is, ol' White Jackal, fellow to the fallen, diddums."

"Sometimes, my lord," Elloise shares her unasked for opionion with Kael, guilelessly, "I wonder if she is related to me. But, as I am two years older and several inches shorter, I do recall seeing her when she was a screaming red-faced baby and I asked Mom if we could return her for a good dog." With a brightness that never falters, she offers a nod to Margret. "Ducking is advised, but very difficult to do in certain situations. Thank you, my lady for directing me to the Guildmaster. Oh - yes - I understand. It's likely that Arcadia wants to speak about the Academy. I think that I can speak with Lady Margret is she doesn't mind."

Paloma steps away from the reach couches, intercepting a tray of small sandwiches and takin them back with her for questioning on behalf of the crown. That or she just grabbed some food to share with the other King's Own on duty. One of the two.

Vandred bobs his head with Jacali's admission of location. "Holding down is important, Lady. Leather straps and buckles are expensive." He reaches up, scratching idly at his left eyebrow before he drops the hand, pushing his thumbs together as a way of keeping his hands doing something while not being too busy. "It keeps us very busy, Lady." A pause, and he shifts his feet, staring down at his shoes with a mild case of 'I'm still not well-dressed enough for this'-itis. "If I may be," He searches for the proper word, "Momentarily excused, Lady. I would like to get a refreshment for her throat."

Oswyn squints as he eases his way further into the room, heading for the bar to quietly order a brandy. He waves in Vandred's direction, smiling at him as though he recognizes him.

"Ah, well, I look forward to meeting her. Lady Margret speaks with my voice in matters of the guild, so you are in excellent hands." This is offered to Elloise before she looks up at Kael, a curious look cast back to Jacali, and a murmur of, "Please do come in to the COmmons Clinic for that cough. It does not sound good. Lady Margret is the head administrator there. If you would like to work out of the clinic, we always have need of talented alchemists." Reigna takes Kael's arm and looks up at him. "Shall we get back, beloved?"

"Good evening!" Margret says brightly to Oswyn as he rushes in before she says with a little laugh, "Goodness this event is supposed to be relaxing! No need to run...unless it's towards the bar." She gives Oswyn a toothy grin before looking back to Elloise. "I can speak to you about it, Lady Elloise. It's no trouble." She looks relieved when Jacali's couch clears up, and at the mention of the Lowers she smiles, "I'm there as well. I am the administrator for the Commons Clinic. And you're so right about healers needed in the darkest places. And the Countess is correct on both counts. If you need your cough looked at please come in, but we also always need healers." She smiles apologetically to Vandred, "Oh I am just prattling on and you both probably want to have a drink and a sit down!" She says to Reigna and Kael, "Goodnight Countess. Count."

Kael tilts his head to the side as he regards Elloise and thereafter he snorts. It is a soft sound, only partially audible, and it is undeniable that he is trying to suppress amusement. Nonetheless he inclines his head in a most humble manner and murmurs, "I believe that my eldest son is currently suffering the fact that he is unable to properly vocalize such a thing. He has condensed his thoughts on his little brother down to an exclamation of 'no!'" When the explanation comes forth regarding the Academy, there is a nod in response before he murmurs, "A good evening to you, Lady Leary." He tries to catch the host's eyes so that he might incline his head deeply to her as well. Just that, before he plays proper escort to Reigna and leads her out.

Corban has left the Far rear couches.

Reedy, a King's Own aide have been dismissed.

Corban has joined the Far rear couches.

a tiny man with a BIG unpronounceable name arrives, delivering a message to Margret before departing.

Alaric and the King's Own are having a casually animated discussion over snacks. Apparently since a couch with the King and a few knights is, oh, intimidating to approach or something, it seems like they're getting ready to bring the party to other people instead.

"Aren't nothin' to concern yourself with, Lady, this cough that is. Won't slow me down none, it won't, will not, not me, diddums. Not at all, atall." Jacali's lips press to a tight line, "Not at all." She blurts before letting out a quiet chuckle, her brows lifting as she nods toward her like she's in on some inside joke. She swallows hard, gulping in another breath that had eluded her, her attentions shifting toward Vandred and his attempted escape. She looks toward him as though to plead 'please don't leave me' even as he's beginning to move off to find something to ease her malady. Her attentions then move to look between the two ladies chatting about the guild, a breath taken in through her teeth as she bows shallowly once more, casually backing away from them both. "Any time, luv, any time, always willin' to roll up the ol' sleeves, me, get dirty, filthy, down in the dark." She gives another glance to either of the ladies from below a bowed brow, sniffing softly, "I do, of course, me, I do produce quality fragrances for the betters, such as yourselves, should you be interested. But, I shant take your time, I won't, not more of it, not my place. I shall leave you to your evenings both." She's still bowed, still backing away, shuffling rump-ward toward Vandred's general location.

Alaric has left the Far rear couches.

Zelda, the royal messenger have been dismissed.

13 King's Own Guardsmen have been dismissed.

Elloise pauses, taking a decently sized whiff of her skin at wrist and then at her arm, "I bathed." She insists, as Jacali starts to withdraw from her (and Margret) and she briefly looks panicked. "I didn't touch the sulfurs today." She glances back to the Greenmarch noblewoman, "I was only interested in joining the guild. I have, uhm, self-taught myself fundamentals. I can stitch a straight line of sutures now. Hmm, and I am reasonably confident that I will not kill anyone with my remedies. Although, I truthfully do not know where my true interest in the field is."

Vandred has left. In reality he's already pacing over towards the bounty of food and drink, before Oswyn starts waving at him. He freezes in his tracks, eyebrows arching up visibly as the man greets him like a friend - and then there's Jacali following after him. He offers a twitchy smile towards the man, deciding to go along with the greeting. "Hello." He offers, before he lifts up one of the small beef pies and takes a large bite from it. There's muffled noises, as if he's trying to say something to Oswyn in a friendly 'I-know-you'

sort of way. But muffled. With pie.

"Lady Greenmarch! Hullo! I hope you're well. I, um, I did end up at the bar," Oswyn tells Margret. He is handed his brandy, which is apparenly free of charge. Free drinks are the best drinks, and he lifts his to take a sip. And squints over the rim at Vandred, now that the other man is closer to him. "Oh. I, ah... I thought you were someone else. That's embarrassing. Mildly embarrassing, I mean. I've been much more embarrassed in the past." He nods politely to Jacali as well. "Sorry."

"I'll keep that in mind." Margret says with a bright smile to Jacali, and when the woman moves away she says to Elloise, "Shall we get drinks and talk then, my Lady?" She then leans in to smell the other lady before she says reassuringly, "You do not smell." That stated she starts towards the bar to refresh her glass of wine. "I am quite good thank you, Goodman Oswyn. How are your studies coming along?" To Elloise she says, "Joining the guild will certainly give you access to other professionals which may make specialization more easy to figure out. But there is nothing wrong with general medicine. In fact I think it is the most useful."

"Easy mistake, that, easy mistake, no worries, old son, none at all, atall." Jacali murmurs, hand reaching to grab a fistful of Vandred's sleeve, dragging him toward her to mumble something at him about procuring more pies. Apparently it's not so much by choice that they're down in the lowers, and moreso that they are... well. Let's just say they don't exactly belong here with the well-to-do masses. Before the average fellow that's joined her can take a drink from a glass he's just picked up, she's plucked it from over his shoulder and stolen it away for herself, taking a few parched gulps of what was likely for her anyway. She coughs a few more times, eyes clenched tightly shut as she swallows hard a few times, her breath slowly taken in through her nose. With the attentions of Margret shifted more properly onto Elloise, Jacali's moved to the table that Vandred had just walked away from. After the most casual of glances about the room, she begins to place pies neatly into the large pockets of her coat. A broad smile is afforded to Oswyn, a vacant thing accompanied by bright, wide eyes. She's not very good at this, but it's clear she thinks she's getting away with it, chest rising and falling with the excited wheeze of near-panicked breathing.

Vandred makes a few more muffled noises around the pie. The way the pie is gestured is a friendly manner, apparently no harm done. Or at least, any harm that was done has been soothed by the fact that the man has something to eat - a game changer. A small drink is procured in the other hand as he turns back towards Jacali, and the rest of the pie is gone. He's not chewing either, although he did give a heavy gulp. There's another pie in his hand, and he's putting it into his pocket - although he's not really smiling, he's just.. pocketing a pie or two for later, and expecting polite company to politely ignore it. The lower borough's were mentioned anyway. He offers the drink to Jacali as she grips his sleeve, and he bobs his head a bit, and there's another gesture of the drink towards her. "Don't worry about it. I have that kind of face. I hope you are enjoying the meeting. I have met many interesting people." And in goes another pie into the deep pocket, and then he lifts one up to take a bite, before glancing over towards the door, and back to Jacali.

Renault, the mustachioed Lycene, 2 House Velenosa Guards arrive, following Theo.

"Drinks? Oh - no, no thank you. I didn't want to overstay my welcome, my lady." Elloise tells Margret with a quick shake of her head, fingers fidgeting with the gold-washed buttons of her coat. "I intended to speak my intent - want, really, to join. Then, I was going to excuse myself so that I can back home. I need to continue working on Ferdinand because I am woefully behind schedule on him. Work like that - all fiddly bits - swallows up all my time."

"They're going well, thank you," Oswyn says automatically to Margret. "Always busy. And with the shop. I need to get to the Lowers clinic more often, I think. I'm not sure I'm pulling my weight, so to speak." He pauses, glancing from Vandred to Jacali. "Er. Are you... alright?" He's by the bar.

"This event is open to the public, Lady Elloise." Margret says reassuringly to Elloise. "You wouldn't be overstaying your welcome at all. But if you have other obligations I completely understand." She takes a sip from her own refilled glass of wine. "You mustn't keep Ferdinand waiting." Does she know who or what Ferdinand is? Most assuredly not. Still, she sounds like she does think it is very important. "I forgot what kind of shop you run, Master Oswyn." Jacali's fresh coughing spell draws her concern again, but she doesn't remark on it.

Jacali unceremoniously shoves a pie into her mouth; or, at least, as much of it as she can possibly fit up in her gub. She chews quietly enough, offering a cheeky smile toward those looking at her, crumb-covered and all, a helpless shrug offered up in retort to the new questioning as to her health.

Theo strides into the Salon, casting a curious glance about the room. "What's all this, then?" He doesn't really speak to anyone in particular, and soon lifts his shoulders into a shrug and approaches the bar. "Gin. Thanks."

Vandred raises a hand and plops it down onto Jacali's shoulder. "We'll return to where we came from. Thank you for the invitation, Lady. It was greatly appreciated." Of course, eyes at the ground. A bow of form towards Margret, and then a nod towards Oswyn. The two of them - Vandred and Jacali - both depart by means of walking out of the door. With a slight bulge in the pockets that they lacked before entrance, at the very least.

"Oh, ah," Oswyn tells Margret from his post at the bar. "Scribing supplies. Books and scribing supplies. It's right near the Academy, which makes it extremely convenient." Her has a brandy in his hand. Theo nears, and Oswyn squints at him.

"It's a small get together thrown by the Phycisian's Guild." Margret says to Theo with a friendly smile. "Please have a drink. We've lovely pies to snack on. If you have any questions about the guild I would be glad to answer them. I'm Lady Margret Greenmarch, by the way." To Oswyn she says, "Ah. Do you make blank books for people to write in?"

Gin in hand, Theo turns to Margaret, offering a smooth dip of his head. "Pleasure, Lady Greenmarch." His lips curl into a smile as he draws his head back up. "I just came for a drink. I hope I'm not intruding? Prince Theo Velenosa, by the way."

Oswyn inclines his head politely to Theo, should the Prince happen to glance over, but he's not exactly vying for the man's attention. He tells Margret, "I don't bind the books myself. I mean, I learned, um, how to, but I just get the blank books elsewhere and resell them at the, um, the shop."

"Of course you aren't." Margret says warmly to Theo. "And I think we're probably cousin-in-laws. My husband is a Velenosa." To Oswyn she says, "Ah. I confess I don't know how the book trade works. I imagine it takes skill to bind a book?"

"And who might that be, Lady? I fear I am new to Arx. I arrived from Lenosia a little over a month ago." Theo sips on his gin.

Kyan, a long-legged silver tabby-cat arrives, delivering a message to Theo before departing.

Oswyn's posture eases somewhat. "It does, Lady Margret," he tells her. "Some. I decided to learn the basics when I became a scholar. It's good to know how things work if repairs are required. Er." He glances between her and Theo, and says, "Did you mention pies?"

Alaric has joined the Far rear couches.

"Lord Alessandro Greenmarch now, but previously Velenosa." Margret says to Theo with an easy smile. She confesses to Oswyn, "It would have never dawned on me that a book might need fixed. And yes we have very lovely beef hand pies." She follows up with, "Have either of you met his Majesty the King?" She starts in the direction of the Couches where Alaric is stationed, maybe like she expects them to follow.

Renault approaches from behind Theo, leaning in to whisper in his ear. He frowns, but offers the man a nod. "Apologies, Lady Greenmarch, but I really must be going. Thank you for the drink. We shall have to speak again sometime, yes?" He offers a smile, tosses his gin back, and then he is moving for the door, muttering something to the Lycene servant at his side.

Renault, the mustachioed Lycene, 2 House Velenosa Guards leave, following Theo.

Oswyn glances in Theo's direction as the man leaves, brow furrowed for a moment, and then he's moving away from the bar to follow Margret. "Er. Yes, actually. Not all that, um, that long ago."

Alaric has been around schmoozing with random npc Physicians' Guild members but indeed has returned to the couch, where Margret and Oswyn seem inbound. "Lady Margret, hello again. Ah, Scholar Oswyn, good evening," he declares sociably. "I'm glad to see that Sabella hasn't been piling too much work onto you. Are you part of the Guild as well? That's rather impressive! You really are a multidisciplinary sort of fellow, aren't you?" he observes approvingly.

"Scholar Oswyn is truly industrious. The first time I met him he beat me on a call for a healer." Margret gives Oswyn a bright smile before she asks him, "Is Princess Sabella your patron? She is utterly delightful."

Margret is overheard praising Alaric: For continuing to sponsor the Physician's Guild. We couldn't do it without you your majesty!

"Oh, ah, yes," Oswyn tells Alaric, immediately going into a respectful bow and holding his satchel strap carefully as he does so. "I'm a member of the Physicians Guild. And the Society of Explorers. The three sort of... overlap? Primarily, I'm a, um, a Scholar. Your Majesty." To Margret, he says, "Oh! No, Princess Sabella isn't my patron, she's my, um, well, she's very kind to me." He eyes the others and says, "We're friends?" Like a lightning bolt is going to blast down from the heavens for him making such a statement.

"Sabella's very friendly," Alaric declares agreeably. "She's got the talent of getting along with people of every station. I do appreciate your willingness to help her with her journal-related matters, Scholar. It's an important duty before the gods, after all, and one of the most important traditions of the Compact. I know that she appreciates it all the more, herself."

"She's a very good friend to have. My husband and I are very big fans of her and Lord Niklas." Margret says to Oswyn. She looks like she may say more, but her guard comes over to whisper in her ear. She says apologetically and a little gravely, "I'm sorry I am being called away. A little boy in the Lowers ran out in front of a cart." To Alaric she says, "Thank you, your majesty, for sponsoring us. I do believe we do good work, and it's because of you. And thank you for coming. Scholar. Sir Corban and Dame Paloma." She turns then to limp rather quickly towards the door.

Paloma turns away from speaking with Corban, giving a respectful nod to the exiting Margret.