Fatima has joined the The High Table of the Waves.

2 Pravus Honor Guard arrives, following Galatea.

3 Armed Confessors, 3 House Velenosa Guards, Thomas the Faithful, the Silver Honey Badger arrive, following Alistair.

The High Inquisitor arrives, but thankfully he is not bedeck in the ominous black and red colors, or the telltale hood, of his well known Order. Perhaps he has arrived as a Prince of Velenosa. Or maybe just a hungry and somewhat civilized Prodigal. He wears a outfit of light Lyceum fabrics, the one bit of Velenosa culture he has come to appreciate. Comfortable clothing. Despite not seeming to be here for the purposes of duty or to track down some criminal to drag back to a cell... the man is still as dour and displaying some eternal displeasure upon his features. It really is his default look and nothing in the world can solve that eternal problem. He is assailed by the scents of Eurusi, the musical cacophony, and exotic dancers moving about. For a moment he stands and absorbs all that Eurus has to offer in this little display.

The banquet hall of the Petrioch wing of the Eurusi consulate in Arx has been festively decorated in bright colors, with colorful silks in hues of saffron, violet, aquamarine and crimson draped in elegant swaths along the edges of the walls. Musicians play the seductive tones of the far shores of Eurus on oud, ney, tabla drums and a singer occasionally sings songs in Eurusi. Servers move about the room, offering the heady wines of the far east, along with appetizers and treats for guests. A variety of Eurusi guards can be seen, wearing black armor with green accents, and black burnooses that give them a mysterious, shrouded, and slightly dangerous look.

Even so, the atmosphere is pleasant as guests arrive, and the scents of delicious food waft in from the kitchens, ready to be served. The banquet tables are beautifully adorned with fresh spring flowers. Seated at the high table, former Princess Fatima Thrax, now Queen Fatima Masah'Malak, emanates an aura of dark majesty that she cannot seem to entirely quell, draped in hues of seafoam over black shadowmeld, her long black hair adorned with a serpentine-bewjeweled diadem. Some of her closest advisors are gathered there with her as well. There may be some familiar faces among them, while others are distinctly foreign. As guests begin to arrive, Fatima rises from her seat at the table. "Good evening! Please, enjoy the feast, and be welcome! It is good to be back, even if only for a short stay." It's a brief introduction, no formal addresses.

Galatea was perhaps not prepared for the splendor of the occassion. Upon entering, her progress across the room is immediately arrested by the sheer spectacle of the entertainment: Musicians, dancers, warriors of far-off lands; it's enough to leave her standing and inelegantly gawking. It's not as if she looks out of place: Dressed in a wintry blue-and-white ensemble and with her eyes decorated in much the same colors, she's like a vision of the cold here in the middle of summer. Perhaps even more eye-catching is the fact that the faintest of mystical lights glimmers every now and then about the ring she's wearing, hinting that it bears one of the enchantments which have slowly become more a part of the fabric of Arvani life.

Less mystical is the enthusiasm with which she takes to the food. She must have a big appetite, or at least an ambitious assessment of her appetite, because she piles up a small heap of food before she puts the plate on a table.

"Ah, Your Majesty," she greets Fatima, at a likely interval when she has fewer petitioners right at her side. "I am no one important, but it is my great honor to have accepted your invitation. Clearly your corner of Eurus prospers under your guidance."

Alistair takes note of the guards about, the foreign dignitaries given a long look by the large bulk that is the High Inquisitor. He is then naturally drawn towards Fatima as she rises to give introduction. The once Thrax Princess, now foreign Queen, is peered at with that intense gaze that he levels upon everyone. The prodigal born man could still use a few etiquette lessons, but then again his station and duty sometimes demand he gives people an uncomfortable stare now and then.

For the moment he 'enjoys' the festivities. Although no one can recall if he takes a bite to eat. Maybe he thinks its poisoned or the like. Or perhaps it is just to rich for his tongue. Which says something considering some of the parties the Velenosa throw. Eventually he to arrives near the table and Fatima, around the same time as Galatea. "Hopefully Avrum and Eurus share in that prosperity..." Alistair remarks with a look from Galatea to Fatima. "And the good Galatea here down plays her skills. She is a capable seeker of knowledge and dabbles in alchemy. Or so I hear." And of course the High Inquisitor hears a little bit of something about everyone.

As Galataea approaches to greet her, Fatima turns to the silver-haired woman, and offers a warm smile, and an inclination of her head. "It is a pleasure to have you here, ah..." she glances at Alistair as he approaches, and supplies the woman's name, then looks back to Galataea. "Galataea, is it? How nice to meet you. I do hope that you enjoy yourself this evening. It is indeed my hope to share the growing prosperity of Petrioch with Arvum," she adds, looking to Alistair, in acknowledgment of his comments. "How good it is to see you again, High Inquisitor. I trust things are going well with the rebuilding here in Arvum?" she asks, with a note of concern. "And an alchemist, you say? That is a useful skill to have," she says, looking to Galataea again. Her gaze lingers on the woman, noting the enchanted ring, and her lips curve into a warmer smile.

Galatea has several virtues, but politics is maybe not one of them. "Avrum's prosperity is what we might call unevenly distributed," she tells Alistair, wiggling her fingers as she absentmindedly considers the silverware on the table in front of her. "Seeing as probably over half the nation got more or less burned to the ground a couple of years back, it'll be a while before things are at the peak of wealth once again. I suppose it's been very good for Setarcan exports, since we were more or less untouched by what we might dub the Azazel Incident, but less good for the interior of the country."

A pause, and she touches a hand to her chest, dipping her head deferentially towards Alistair at his praise. "Ah, well, I have some small capability, but any claims that I am the very best alchemist alive may be slightly exaggerated," she adds to Fatima. Somehow, she has managed to turn humility into boasting. "Still, I have some capability in the subject."


Alistair's eyes slide over to Galatea as she speaks words of the disparity within Avrum. One would think that the man who rose from the lowest of the low to the highest of the high would be a keen ally for such ventures. Either he has been domesticated or is a class traitor, he does not voice agreement with what she says. "Rebuilding is underway, of course, now that that we have done well to push various influences and interlopers from our realm." The words chosen are wide enough to encompass both the supernatural and the 'mundane'. "I trust your journey across the ocean was smooth? Is it true that Eurusi ships sail with Shadowmeld sails?" He questions, glancing to the shadowmeld that Fatima wears. He doesn't frown, but there is some disapproval in the choice of fashion.

"Best alchemist alive? Careful, I might need to test that boast." The High Inquisitor warns. Obviously friendly ribbing, yes? But it is said without humor and in such dry fashion.

Lord Adriano Magnotta - Commander of the Magnotta Marines, Umi, the curious turtle, 1 Kennex corsairs arrive, following Titania.

Titania arrives, following Cadern.


Inclining her head slightly, Fatima gives Galatea a sympathetic look, as she stands near the high table, greeting her guests. "I do understand. Eurus, too, has seen quite a bit of change, with the overthrowing of Obsidian and the Dune Emperor, and the various Masters, the abolishment of slavery, and the rebuilding of the various governments. It took quite a lot of work, indeed, to convince the people of Petrioch to accept me as their queen, but I think they saw the wisdom in it, when I showed them the promise of potential relations with Arvum. Petrioch, in truth, is largely ruled by a council of former slaves, who advises me on matters of state. There are still some of the former rulers of the Dune Kingdoms who have fled, and are seeking to retake power, but things are slowly moving apace." She looks back to Alistair and listens intently as he explains about the rebuilding in Arvum, then she nods. "Yes, I imagine there must have been some stragglers who were left behind, after the Azazel Incident," she says, wrinkling her nose slightly. "That is what I've taken to calling it. Hopefully the people of this world will remember it as a cautionary tale." She pauses then, as Alistair inquires about her journey across the ocean. "It was not pleasant," she says, "but it was manageable. There is no longer a barrier preventing passage, and there have been strides in ensuring a safe passage, at least for now. You should know that during the whole mess, there are certain other entities who remain, and that is not likely to change." She leaves that all vague. No one wants to talk about Leviathan right now. A dark eyebrow lifts at the man as he mentions shadowmeld sails, and she gives a soft laugh. "Heavens, no. They are made of fireweave." She gives him a wink. "Fireproof sails are a boon, and a protection against pirates seeking to set your ship on fire, wouldn't you say?" Her green eyes sparkle, and it's hard to tell if she's jesting or not. Her gaze turns back to Galatea. "Well, Prince Patrizio was particularly supportive during the Incident, and so Setarco shall see that support returned in kind," she says, smiling warmly. She looks back to Alistair. "Velenosa, as well."

Galatea is among the various attendees of the welcome banquet when Titania and Cadern arrive, having piled up a nigh-comical amount of food on her plate, evidently unwilling to miss the chance to sample even one facet of foreign cuisine. Using her fork, she spears a small bite-sized pastry into her mouth, which she munches on contemplatively to buy herself time to figure out how to answer Alistair. "Well," she says at last, "If your test is to turn lead into gold, I should advise you that I /can/ do it, but there are so many expensive materials involved in the process that you ultimately do not actually end up gaining net money. I've been forced to fund my mystical experiments with more conventional business ventures." She was, in fact, one of the first commoners in the nation to own a trading caravel outright.

Meanwhile, Fatima's recounting of the current state of affairs in Petrioch certainly arrests Galatea's attention. Whatever else she might be, she was a Scholar first, and here's every scholar's dream: The opportunity to hear about a far-off land from someone who actually lives there. "It is surely a good thing that all the dark forces who gripped the lands of Eurus for so long have had their fingers pried away from their stranglehold on power. As for Patrizio--it couldn't have been easy for him to make the decision to go to war, and I remember counseling him to do as much back at the time. I suspect he cannot be here today, but please allow me to informally extend you his well-wishes and warm regards. Between him and Duchess Belladonna, who granted me the favor of the ring I wear, I imagine the Isles are in good hands, leadership-wise, in the years to come, much like your own city."

She reaches for whatever liquor is nearest on offer. She appears significantly less cautious about it than Alistair is.

Cadern arrives what he appears to consider fashionably late. Part of this appears to be him escorting Titania into the area. His eyes wander the banquet hall with a smile. Cadern adjusts his loose finery as he drifts deeper into the hall his eyes wandering until he settles on the cluster of people around the Host. Cadern grins at Titania as he leads her along towards the grouping. As he approaches he smiles warmly at Galatea and Alistair, offering each respectively a, "Lady Galatea. High Inquisitor." He waits for a lull to offer a bow to Fatima, "Your Majesty, thank you for this wonderful opportunity to experience the Eurusi hospitality, it's always a delight to get exposure to a new culture. On behalf of House Blackwood, I would like to pass on our congratulations on your ascension. And ah may I also introduce Lady Titania Magnotta." He offers brightly to nudge things in.

Titania blue eyes look around the hall as she walks in with Cadern, her clothing in many different shapes of blues. Her blond hair pulled up into a braid with tiny sea shells through out her hair, a soft smile on her lips as her ocean blue eyes fall onto the group near the table. When Cadern brings her closer she looks between Galatea and Alistair not knowing them or remembering them. She greets them copying Caderns words, "Lady Galatea, High Inquisitor." then her eyes fall onto Fatima, "Your Majesty."

"Gold?" Alistair rumbles out, not in thought but confusion. It seems the New Inquisition is not as obsessed as the old with wealth, power, and corruption. Old Shreve did enough of that to satisfy future generations. "I would be keen on something to assist with interrogations. I prefer if people just talk..." Isn't that just life. Please let me all your secrets. It would make his job so much easier. "Fireproof sails." He grunts, "Yes I guess that would be keen." It is clear that Alistair is not one who versed or keen on the ocean or ships. He is exclusively landlocked. If he is out in that liquid abyss then something has gone horribly wrong.

More guests of import filter in. Cadern and Titania earn a slight incline of his head. "Lay out a feast and eventually they will come." Alistair remarks to Fatima. "And few would be telling the truth if they did not say to exotic nature of Eurus did not intrigue." Another sweeping gaze is given to all the foreign displays.


Perhaps to set Alistair's mind at ease, Fatima lifts her own glass, and has a servant fill it with wine. Then she offers to have the servant pour from the same decanter, into a goblet for the High Inquisitor as well. She lifts her glass then, and inclines her head to Galatea. "Please do send him and the Duchess Belladonna, wherever they may be, my regards as well, if and when you see them, Lady Galatea." She lifts an eyebrow at the mention of business ventures. "What manner of business are you in?" she asks curiously, resuming her seat at the high table. She sips from the glass, looking back to Alistair.

As Cadern arrives to offer his greetings, Fatima watches his interactions with Galatea and Alistair, then she offers him a warm smile as he greets her. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Blackwood. Please, be welcome. Enjoy the food, the music, and the dancers I have in store for later," she adds, the words at the end tinged with a hint of enticement. She smiles, and then she registers Titania's presence as Cadern introduces her. She stares at Titania for a moment, as if looking at a ghost, then she clears her throat. "Lady Titania," she greets politely. "I am pleased to learn you survived the events of the Incident unscathed." However, there is a slight distance in her tone and her gaze, as if she is remembering something. "You are well, I hope?" Her green gaze refocuses on Titania.

Galatea touches a hand to her chest and inclines her head towards both Cadern and Titania when they arrive. "I am very technically not a lady," she reflexively informs them, as though this is a stock phrase she's been using for quite some time. "I've suggested 'Magister' and 'Magistrix' as equivalent titles for mages, but alas, I don't think the trend is catching on."

Her eyes slide over towards Alistair. "It's the old classical tale about why people take up the study of alchemy, yes? Turning lead into gold, and creating the Philosopher's Stone and thereby achieving immortal life. It turns out both are possible but neither is really the proper way of going about doing things."

As far as business goes, she informs Fatima: "Nothing more exotic than the mercantile goods trade--buying low and selling high at the cost of very long travel between one place and another. Selling Setarcan wine to counties currently deprived of operable vineyards has lately been a very lucrative venture."

All that said, the general attention seems to be drifting towards Titania, and she does likewise, sizing up the woman with eyes nigh on as green as Fatima's own.

Cadern can't help but grin at Alistair's comment, "Would it be more unique if I had said it in Eurusi?" Cadern's tone is clearly bemused as he turns then towards Galatea and smiles, "Oh? Magister well the use of it might be... I've never heard the term Magistrix before, it seems...unclaimed." He suggests with a smirk before glancing back to Fatima and looking intrigued at the talk of dancers, but then more curiously between Titania and Fatima with open curiosity. He does look to Galatea curiously, "Is there a proper way for immortal life then?"

Titania still holds onto Caderns arm as she watches Fatima, "I would not say unscathed, but yes I survived." not to say it was easy and she didn't lose many she had known on top of the years she had lost before that. Her head raises slightly while looking to Fatima as if trying to size the other woman, "I am." when she speaks its soft, almost haunting like waves out at sea rocking against a boat. "And yourself?" her eyes look to Galatea, her eyes a blue like the sea as if you were watching the water itself. Then her eyes look back to Fatima, "Welcome back to the city."

Alistair claims some finger food, seeming to accept the chances of poisoning are low. He dips the finger food into some sauce and glances to Cadern. "We have enough immortals lounging about, do we really need more?" he rumbles out. If he could ban immortality he would very much do so. Alas, they do not allow him to make laws or get to close to the more explosive toys the Inquisition has hidden away.


Galatea's mention of Magister and Magistrix titles causes Fatima to tilt her head. "That actually sounds quite official. Magistrix Galatea. If that is the title you prefer, then that is what you shall be called by me." She listens, then, regarding the trade of wine, and nods. "I imagine that would indeed be quite lucrative. As it happens, I have brought a number of things with me, samples of Eurusi wares and innovations, that I hope to arrange for trade with Arvum in the coming days. Perhaps there can be talk of trade, should Arvum be willing." She smiles, and settles back in her chair, swirling her wine in her goblet then as she looks back to Cadern and Titania. She listens to Titania, studying the haunted look about the woman, and nods. "Well enough," she says in reply, polite, yet reserved. "Thank you. It is good to see you," she adds, then, perhaps a little more softly and warmly.

Then she looks away, clearing her throat slightly at the talk of immortality, glancing between Galatea, Cadern and Alistair. "Immortality... hmm, an intersting notion. We seem to have a strange notion that immortality is actually a thing, given we managed to defeat Destiny, who was said to be immortal. Does immortality truly exist? Or is it simply another illusion? Even gods can die. Hmm. I think perhaps the only entities that may be immortal could be the Kindly Voices. Even then, perhaps not. I must admit, my vision of immortality was somewhat shattered after the Incident," she says conversationally, giving a nod to Alistair.

Servants enter then, bearing platters of food, to set out on the banquet tables. Then the servants depart, and the Queen of Petrioch gives a subtle nod to one of the musicians. Soon, the current song ends, and another begins, slower and more exotic than ever, and following the notes, a trio of dancers enter the banquet hall, clad in gauzy attire in shades of teal, violet and gold, sparkling with crystals, jingling with bells, swirling with veils. They dance gracefully throughout the room in time to the drums, the oud, and the violins, little finger cymbals on their fingers called zils ringing cheerfully in time with the bells on their ankles. They dance around the room, then up onto the water stage, where they perform the various dances the Eurusi women are famous for.

Galatea wears a broad, dimpled grin when Fatima acknowledges her extremely fanciful title, twirling her fork and by extension the food speared on it when she does. "Well, if a Queen starts using it, then I daresay it might have a better chance to catch on after all. As far as import-export business is concerned, I would be happy to meet with you privately to discuss it in one of the coming days, as I imagine it's not the most exciting banquet talk." She glances at a passing dancer. "And I might have difficulty concentrating on the fine details of margin and distribution besides."

On the topic of immortality, she clarifies: "There is a difference between agelessness and true invincibility. I suspect nothing has as yet attained the latter, but when people speak of immortal life they generally mean the former."

Judging by the way she falls silent and watches the dancers, she finds belly-dancing (and similar) to be extremely distracting.

"Are you sure that sauce goes with that?" Cadern asks of Alistair dubiously before considering, "From my research I've found that need is not generally the word one ascribes to immortals. That being said, maybe if they were encouraged to lounge more it might be less of a pain." Cadern considers this, "I can talk to the Head Magistrate if we should have a set of rules and procedures for Immortals. I mean don't you think if there was a proper way to be an Immortal it would be less of a headache for everyone... Maybe a registry."
Cadern trails off before considering Fatima's comments. Cadern's head tilts as he rubs his chin, "Mmmm Destiny's..." He trails off, "I suppose it depends on your definition of Immortality. Certainly unaging, and unkillable...." Cadern says even as Galatea clarifies and he nods his head at her wording of it, "Though.... I suppose you have to qualify that to be immortal, does one have to be capable of change... Ooooh." Cadern only shutting up as his eyes grow distracted by the dancers and he claps his hands brightly.

The sauce clearly is not meant to go with the bread treat that he dips into it. Its meant for some kind of Eurusi seafood that was transported here fresh and iced. "It does now." He informs Cadern rather bluntly. Let the prodigal eat his food as hew ants. "That is a fair point regarding immortality, I have yet to encounter anything that was unkillable. Just those that prefer to spend as much time as possible enjoying our mortal realm." Alistair seems to be the only one here who is not distracted by the dancers, unless someone watches him closely. The man is a master at both staring into someone's soul in a complete rude and uncomfortable manner... and also watching something without watching it. There is a rumble of appreciation as the dancers go about their well perfected routine. "So this is who she learned it from." He says without any other context.

Titania does not sit she lets Caderns arm go, "I wanted to come welcome you back, your majesty." she smiles softly. "I am in need of returning back to handle some things, but perhaps we can speak later if you are remaining in the city of a bit." hands comes down along her front making sure her clothing are flat a habit of sorts.


The dancers are indeed quite pleasant to watch, undulating and swaying and twirling and dancing on the water stage, while servers move about the room, refilling drinks, offering appetizers, clearing empty plates, and offering fresh ones. Meanwhile, Fatima lounges back in her chair there at the high table, seeming to enjoy the conversation as much as she enjoys the dancers as well. She slants a glance between Galatea, Cadern, and even Alistair as they watch the dancers, and she smiles knowingly. Really, who can resist a bellydancer?

Eventually, she turns her focus back to Galatea, and she smiles. "While I do think there is some precedent for the use of the title of Magister or Magistrix, I do recommend some caution in using it however. The blood mages of Eurus were known as the Magisters of the Mirror, and they were all in service to Obsidian, and the Dune Emperor. Eurusi hold little fondness for the title. So if you do visit us across the sea, I might think twice about introducing yourself as such." With that sobering reminder, she lifts her glass for another sip of wine, and turns her attention back to Cadern as he comments on the notion of immortality. "Hmm, perhaps it is an interesting question to pose to the priests of Lagoma, the notion of immortality. Long life, I could see the temptation in it... but really, should one live forever? Who knows? Change, I think, is inevitable." She lifts a partially bared bronze shoulder in a little shrug. "Either way, it is an interesting conversation." She seems content to let it go, however, focusing instead on her own meal for a moment, while glancing briefly toward Titania, and inclining her head. "Thank you for coming to see me, Lady Titania. Perhaps we can speak again at another time during my stay," she agrees. "Be well."

Lord Adriano Magnotta - Commander of the Magnotta Marines, Umi, the curious turtle, 1 Kennex corsairs leave, following Titania.

Galatea is, by the end of the dancing display, probably ready to swear eternal loyalty to Petrioch, or at least to any of its denizens with especially serpentine abdominal muscles. At one point she seems to forget that she in fact sitting just a short distance away from royalty, and puts two fingers to her lips for an especially loud whistle of approval. A dirty look from an elder dignitary to her left has her clearing her throat awkwardly and reaching for her wine to distract from her own embarrassment.

"I had a personal encounter with one of those very Magisters," she concedes to Fatima, "And so that makes a certain amount of sense. I suppose 'sorceress' might do in a pinch, but it also seems perhaps over-selling my abilities. Maybe after my next ritual of ascension." She says it with such confidence, like she's destined to ascend to the ranks of archmagi, if only she applies herself properly.

Cadern does not further gain say the high inquisitor his decisions on condiments. Cadern does very gingerly dip finger foods in what he believes to be correct terrestrial, and aquatic zones. Cadern then looks from his food to the Queen to nod, "That could be entertaining. Though it might also go about as well as the time I started asking the Carnifex about the history of demon hunting. That was awkward." Cadern then glances to Galatea, "Well you know what they say, sometimes they say to claim the title you want, not the one you have. I'm not quire sure who They are. But when I'm not sure it was usually Py... Hmmm are we still calling them Py?" He asks turning his head towards Alistair as if he might have made that decision.

At some point, Sen must have slipped in. No one seems to have noticed the actual arrival, not a soul, but she's here now, weaving through the guests, now unmistakably golden colored eyes glancing here and there as she goes. Naturally, she's not dressed for a party of any sort outside of the Lowers - certainly not an embassy gathering - apart from the ancient copper-gold wolf talisman around her neck. Travel leathers. *Clean* travel leathers, but even so.

She's been an unusual sight around Arx itself, often nowhere to be found for months. When in the city, it's almost always been with the sense of some sort of hurried purpose, and while she's spent a bit more time with the Khati immigrants that have started to settle, it hasn't been much. It makes her presence here, at a gathering meant for relaxation and idle comforts, particularly jarring, especially since she doesn't actually seem to be rushing anywhere, even if she's still in motion.


As Galatea speaks of her desire to ascend further with her magic, Fatima gazes at her solemnly. "It is, from what I understand, a long and perilous road. But I wish you well in your journey to further ascension. It still sometimes seems strange to me, to openly speak of such things, even if it has been some time since the ah... what I like to call the Awakening, from the sleep of forgetfulness. I, too, have been working to master my newfound abilities. I suppose, getting back to the topic of immortality for a moment, a long life is somewhat necessary for such learning." She gives a dark chuckle at that, and then looks to Cadern as he tries the various dipping sauces. "I recommend this one," she says, pointing to a pasty looking sauce that looks like it's made of peanuts. "It's called hummus... it's made from chickpeas. The flatbread goes very well with it. I recommend this as well," she adds, pushing a little bowl of olive oil mixed with various spices. "Simple, but delicious. It goes well with the bread, or the shrimp. And this one," she says, pointing to a sort of reddish brown sauce, "is spicy, and goes well with the sliver of chicken."

However long Sen'azala has been here, she's likely been noticed, though not particularly challenged, so long as she doesn't pose an obvious threat to the Queen of Petrioch. At some point, one of Fatima's black-burnoosed guards does lean down to whisper to her, and she glances toward Sen'azala with keen green eyes. Fatima gives a nod to the guard, and he withdraws, resuming his post. She doesn't make a big deal about Sen'azala's presence here, but she does acknowledge her with a nod of greeting. "Prima Sen'azala," she greets, her voice ringing out clearly enough over the music, somehow. The aura of dark majesty around her seems to grow a little stronger for a moment as she speaks. "Welcome. Will you join us?" She gestures to the high table, where she's seated with the others.

Alistair stares at Cadern as he mentions asking the Carnifex about demon hunting. Obviously you don't ask the Faith about demon hunting. They don't like that. Then again they don't like Alistair, so hes not one to approach on matters of the Faith. Alistair has made sure to clock in on everyone who makes an appearance, taking note of all who attend this foreign hosted party. He is the High Inquisitor, and Sen'azala gets a long look from the Inquisitor. But hes not here on duty, so no one is dragged off for a cell or questioning. Her appearance is enough to distract him from the dancers, but he makes sure to catch the next, or final, dance.

There are some people you can just feel staring at you, Alistair is one of them. Cadern puts a finger-food hefting hand up, "What, I read a story about Templars working with them in the post-Metallic era." Cadern says as if that's a totally normal conversation to have. Cadern then ooohs and tries the indicated sauce and lets out an approving groan, though the resulting sound makes his eyes widen sheepishly. "Sorry." He declares after covering his mouth and swallowing. Cadern also gives a warm wave at Sen'azala when Fatima greets the Prima.

Sen'azala briefly meets Alistair's gaze, and for a moment - just a moment - there's a sense of movement around the corners of her mouth. It's not friendly, whatever it is, but not anything that could be considered antagonistic either. Acknowledgment, maybe. Very complicated acknowledgment. She turns toward Fatima before even looking in the Queen's direction. "Of course." To the table she goes, and the very observant might notice her nostrils flare just a little.

Fatima does not seem particularly phased by Alistair's stares. "What story was that?" she asks Cadern, regarding the Templars. Her eyes sparkle at his manner regarding the food, and she smiles. The musicians finish the piece of music they were playing, ending a swirling note of the violin, and a cease of the beat of the drum, and the dancers all curtsey to the audience. Fatima pauses to applaud them, and then they jingle their way off the stage, presumably for a rest. The Queen of Petrioch's gaze turns back to the Prima. Then she turns her attention to Sen'azala, and inclines her head. "Thank you for visiting us, Prima. We're honored by your presence here. How do you and your people fare?" she inquires, her tone a little more formal. Noticing the nostril-flare, she adds, "And please, help yourself to any of the food." She's being amiable, though there's a hint of tension there too. They aren't exactly friends, after all. But neither enemies? There's a measure of gauging and weighing in Fatima's eyes, as if trying to suss out the Prima's mood.

2 Pravus Honor Guard have been dismissed.

Alistair is certainly not about to drag the any conflict into the feast. His disposition is clear, he is not here to be his Inquisitorial self. The dour features are entirely his personal attitude to the world long developed before he joined the Hoods. There is acknowledgment though. Both know the other is here and none will be surprised, which is truly for the better. Now who says Alistair hasn't learned to be diplomatic and engage in politik when needed! He lets the nostrils flare without comment as he finishes off a drink, poison and all.

In the past, years ago, before the Horned God and Azazel were names the public knew all too well, and the title of Prima known at all, Sen's moods were so much easier to gauge. Was she angry? Angrier? Cold but not immediately threatening? Now...well. Right now she just seems tired. Neutral and tired. There's no visible bristling, and maybe only a hint of caution, but she's certainly paying attention to Fatima. Even when she's not looking entirely in her direction, she's clearly paying attention to Fatima.

The woman takes a seat right next to the rest, and spends a few moments eyeing the foods on option before taking a modest helping of some sort of spiced meat. "I," she says, once she's fully settled, "am busy. As for the khati in Arvum, settling in with less tension than you'd expect, though I gather there are some members of the Faith that aren't particularly happy about it."

Cadern smiles at the Queen, "I can dig it up tonight and send it if you want. From what I recall it ended up with some discussion around the distinctions between Paladins, Templars, and the relation of knightly orders, along with the various metallic orders. I had an interpretation which lacked some facts on timeline. Before we understood how many immortals are... lounging... around it was really much harder to understand timelines. And it's /always/ tricky trying to nail down where various knightly orders started or became, and often it's more than one story." For some reason he gestures at Alistair at this. He then looks back to Sen. "Aren't you always busy? Though I suppose now you do more chasing than being chased. There was a lot of work that went into stories and public work that went into preparing for the Nefer'khat so that probably helps."

It's been a long time since Volya came back to Arx. Trying to rebuild a nation takes a certain degree of work that he wansn't expecting. And somehow winding up as one of the Eurusi Queen's confidantes is something he also wasn't expecting, never mind the sudden pile of titles that, almost two years later, he's not quite used to. To go from the would-be Baron of a barony that was stricken from records to being a Caliphe of an Eurusi nation is quite the shift in priorities. The whole list of titles is still jarring: Caliphe of Masah'Shai'vahn, Emir of the Free Kingdom of Petrich, Vizier al'Haarb of the Court of the Waves. Often times, even now, he's still now sure which one is more important than the other. Bud he had been distracted, tending to the national issues before able to join. But he's here now, entering the hall.

Thankfully, there's no poison in the drink. Just a nice, sorta-spicy red wine not dissimilar to a Shiraz. Fatima holds out her cup for a servant to refill, her eyes equally focused on Sen'azala for the moment. She listens to the Prima explain about her people, and nods. "I would imagine it is quite an adjustment for the khati," she muses, "to be so far from home, in a land unfamiliar. I suspect the Faith is rather rattled by a lot of things these days," she adds, with a slight glimmer in her green eyes. "It was interesting, that such differences could be put aside, for the sake of saving the world. But now that the world is saved, for the most part, I suppose some are hoping to go back to the status quo," she muses. "Or at least, trying to comfort themselves, by continuing certain rigid lines of thinking." She's vague, but also not that vague, in her criticism of the Faith.
Fatima's gaze turns back to Cadern though as he mentiosn digging something up, and she blinks, then seems to recall she had asked him about his Templar story. "Ahh yes... there was a lot of discussion and study about those particular topics, if I recall, among House Thrax, in rediscovery of the Paladins of the East, if I recall. I suspect we'll still be putting the lost pieces of history together, well into the years ahead. But yes, I'm always interested in a good story."

She smiles, sips her wine, and then looks toward Volya as he arrives in the banquet hall. "Ahh, the Caliph of the Province of Masah'Shai'vahn, and my royal Vizier." She rises from her throne-like chair at the center of the high table, and stretches out her hand. "Some of you may recall Lord Volya Malespero. He traveled with me to Eurus, and was instrumental in leading charge against the forces of the Dune Emperor, as we drove them into the sea. As such, I have named him my vizier, and granted him lands and title in Petrioch. Lord Volya, I assume all the matters of our return to the consulate are in order?" she asks him. "If so, please join us."

"Not just the Faith. I am sure soon enough I will get all kinds of complaints of the Khati from those who see you as another band of prodigals or the like." Alistair rumbles out flatly. Its not an accusation against Sen'azala and her people, more so an accusation against Avrum and their people. "But then just means you another part of the Compact, and there is always one part or another straining to pull it a part for one reason or another. A few years ago it was the Thrax." The man sits easily in the place at the table he has staked out. "And the one factor uniting us is now gone... it will be interesting to see how long everything... lasts." Alistair seems certain he will have new messes to clean up in the future. And even better, now magic is involved, so they will probably involve fireballs and blood magic. Oh joy.

Sen'azala laughs. She actually laughs, even if it's a short, sharp bark that doesn't carry any whiff of friendliness about it. "Yes," she says to Fatima, "there sure as shit are. A lot of them, largely powerless to do anything but whine and make threats. It's hard to shove your weight around when your titles, wealth, and authority are attached to lands that have been overrun by monsters and armies that have largely been decimated or are full of soldiers a lot more interested in survival and their own families than picking fights with the people they've been working alongside." She tips her head in Alistair's direction. "Yes. None of *has* lasted, though. People are just taking a while to realize they're not repairing the old world, they're putting together the new one. Maybe it'll still be called the Compact. I'm not attached to the name." As if she ever was. "With the Faith in particular, though, there's religious...disagreements? It's not all of them, not even most of them, and a lot less in Arx than other places, but it's an *adjustment*. The khati don't really care whether or not you follow elven gods, or any gods, so long as the Primordia - the Great Mothers," she seems to provide this second toward Alistair in particular, as if he needs the interpretation, "are treated with reverence and respect."

Sen'azala adds, to Cadern, with a sudden, if brief sense of dark, dark mischief, "Yes. More chasing than being chased."

Cadern seems perfectly comfortable prattling on about the subjects of history. He does turn towards the new arrival and bows lightly to VOlya. Fatima's comment gets a grins as he claps his hand, "Yes it's wonderful, there's always more history to uncover!" Cadern only seems more bright when he nods to Alistair, "Isn't that great? A completely new set of patterns that get to be documented, and that'll be history for someone else."
Cadern ever the spastic lore monger turns towards Sen'azala, "Wait, I never managed to figure out if Nefer'khat has one language or ten thousand. Does Primordia always mean mothers, I always figured it was gender neutral." Because, yes, this is the exact time when this is the important part of the conversation.

Volya says, "My Queen." Volya says with the due respect to the woman who has restored this previously broken man to something of worth. While his robes are more of a Eurusi bent these days, there is a certain...Velenosan flair as a personal homage to the Malesperos that took him in when no one else would. "By instrumental you mean that I was doing my part to help cut through a swath while watching Nox'alfar former king cut through the opposition." Remembering that battle he slightly asides. "I kind of felt bad he didn't get the swordfight he was eager for. Alistair, Cadern, and Sen are all greeted with a nod. "Prima, yeah? Heard your name, but don't think we've ever met. So, I feel like I'm in a perpetual state of confusion the last two years since the war ended, but what's a khati?" And more to the other two, "It's been a long time. How has the Compact been since we...well. Since we all didn't die?""

Fatima listens curiously and attentively to Sen'azala's point of view on the matter of the way things might play out in the future, her own eyes narrowing somewhat thoughtfully as well at Alistair's words. "Yes, the world is indeed changed," she murmurs. "It is best to see things that way. It can never go back to the way it was. It will take a long time, I am certain, to recover from what happened. It will be interesting to see how the new world takes form, and how its various peoples and entities come together, or fall apart. Assuming any of us live to see it. And with magic now awakened once again, the danger is greater," she murmurs. "I suppose some fool will come along, and create or become another Azazel. It's only a matter of time," she says cautiously.

Her attention turns from the darker thoughts, back to Volya. She gives him a crooked smile. "I agree... in the end, it did not quite end as expected on the Eurusi side of things. But at least the problem was dealt with. We all had a part to play. And you played your part beautifully, my lord. You, and the Lady Nebulosa, among many others." There's a note of gratitude in her voice, even still, after two years. Her gaze shifts then, to Cadern. "I shall leave the recording of history to the Scholars," she says dryly. "I have a kingdom to run. But it will be interesting to see what happens."

"We met," Sen tells Volya. There's a faint edge to her voice that suggests it wasn't a particularly friendly encounter. "Briefly." The edge vanishes there, however. "Khati are the peoples that live, or lived in this case, in Nefer'khat. There are a thousand different kingdoms there, so a thousand different ways of doing almost everything, and until recently one of the only things they shared was a general disinterest in any place outside of Nefer'khat, especially Arvum. *That's*...also changing. I'm not sure to what." Cadern gets a nod. "Yes, always, though there are a bunch of different languages. Tradespeak is the one that tends to be shared though. That's what they were speaking when we went to Wolf's home."

Fatima listens to the exchange between Sen'azala and Cadern, as they discuss the Khati, and the languages, and Nefer'khat. "It sounds like an interesting land, full of curiosities," the Queen of Petrioch notes. "I am glad that you were able to reach your people, and bring them here, Prima. I hope that the resettlement of your people continues to go well. Please, feel free to visit any time, should you care to speak," she says, extending a basically open invitation to the Prima to visit the consulate. She turns to the others then, rising from her seat once more. "Thank you all, so much for coming. I am afraid there are some duties I must attend to. But please don't feel obligated to leave. Stay if you like, enjoy the feast, the music, and the dancing. Perhaps we will see one another again soon." With that, she offers an inclination of her head to her guests, and then she gathers that aura of dark majesty about herself, and glides out of the banquet hall, trailed by her various guards and attendants.