Standing by the table of foot talking with a servant Prince Cicero Velenosa has a croquet mallet resting over one shoulder and a smile on his lips. The field is set, the food and drink ready.. just waiting for the players to arrive.

Cassius swaggers in like the large powerful nobleman he is. In lieu of the Northern wool and fur, he has taken to wearing lighter linen garments and leather breeches, though he retains a saucy lapel pin with the sigil of House Nightgold.

Pietro strides blithely onto the field in mostly black with a flair of turquoise silk around his throat and sleeves, while the fine wool stitching of his vest invites touch via its variegated texture. He looks bright-eyed and open to new experiences, and possibly a little bit smug about the lady he is escorting on his arm, maybe.

Jareth meanders casually into the proving grounds. The lithe actor comes with some of the rest in the city to watch the spectacle, and of course to be seen.

As the summer afternoon stirs with a soft breeze, it picks up the amber colored skirts of the Lady Sylphie Zaffria's gown, cut so low in the back that it reveals the base of her spine. Dark curls are arranged perfectly over Sylphie's shoulder, glinting red where they catch the late afternoon light. Certainly, she doesn't look as if she is dressed for any type of true 'sport', but here she is, her fingers resting lightly against Pietro's forearm as he escorts her across the field towards the laden table. Smoky grey eyes sweep over Cassius for his swagger, lingering, before it shifts to Cicero. She identifies him by pure process of elimination, greeting warmly, "Prince Cicero, I must say, this looks-- intriguing. Lord Pietro Igniseri, Lady Sylphie Zaffria." The latter names are given lightly, easily.

Runa enters cautiously, allowing others to pass her as she surveys the field. In the company of a few ladies from Hawkmour, she has her hands clasped, like some pious applicant. Her dress of blue with embroidered birds and vines, is subdued. The hat she wears, provides a respectable amount of shade and has a clever brim. A blue strip of silk as been tied about the brow of it, and trails in the wind behind her. Her dress appears to be adequate for riding, with a split down the middle ease of movement. Her companions seek a place to spectate, and she follows them like a reverse convoy of ducklings.

Pietro sketches a standing bow to Cicero. "An honor, sir," he says, with an uptick of his smile at one corner as he straightens. "I was quite curious about the game when Lady Sylphie mentioned the prospect to me." His smile widens, and he tips two fingers in a salute to Lady Runa when he spies her approaching the others, because he remembers her from that one time he was harassing Valkieri in public for no reason.

Jaenelle is here, though by the look on her face as she scans the field, it doesn't appear that she knows how to play the game her cousin in law has decided to teach everone. She moves forward, slipping to stand by Cicero even if she isn't a co-host or anything, maybe she just likes it there. She offers Cicero a smile and dip of her head in greeting.

Cicero steps away from the servant as others start to arrive and is sure to give each a smile in turn, but it is Pietro and Sylphie that approach him first to speak. His head is inclined to them in response, "Ah.. It is nice to meet the two of you. I am glad you were able to make it. Have you met my cousin, Princess Jaenelle?" he asks with a gesture towards the blond woman and then addresses the group as a whole, "For those playing, please go fetch a mallet from the fence so that we can form teams and go over the rules.."

"I believe-- We have seen each other at an event or two, have we not? Perhaps we haven't met so officially," Sylphie replies with a smile to Jaenelle, tipping her chin in a light gesture of introduction. "Lady Sylphie Zaffria. And, this is Lord Pietro Igniseri." But then Cicero is addressing them, and her fingers slide from his arm as she excuses herself with a light, "Well, let's not keep the match waiting," before she draws towards the arranged mallets. She grabs one at random, only caring that the red goes well with her amber gown.

Dafne slips in fashionably(?) late, in a cloud of dark silk and dark hair. She glances about the area, wide-eyed, and lifts a hand toward Sylphie and Pietro, pausing to regard the mallets more in open curiosity than anything else.

Pietro picks up a mallet. He tests its weight like he thinks he's going to start fencing with it. This is a good sign. He smiles to Dafne when he spies her hand. "Lady Dafne! I'm glad you've joined us. Come hit something with a stick."

"I am certain we've met, yes" Jaenelle tells Sylphie brightly, but does not seem to know the man she introduces next. He gets the same warm smile despite not being familiar with him and a dip of her head, "Lord Pietro, lovely to meet you." She lets them slip away to go get their instruments of ball smashing before turning back towards Cicero, "I have no idea what i'm doing."

Runa turns after a tap on her shoulder. She turns her head and her body follows until she's watching out over the field of participants. Her friend leans in close, using a hand to shield her mouth as she gabbles gossip into Runa's ear. The Lady hawkmour fixes her eyes upon Pietro. The other finely dressed woman on her left touches her arm and gives it a emphatic squeeze. Mouthing Cicero's name and looking like she wants to shake her companion loose of hairpins and patience. And /that/ balances out Runa's other ear. She dips her head, and the brim of the hat provides a means to frame away the sky and isolate the players. She retrieves a small white hankerchief form her collar and hoists it in salute of the teams.

Dafne scampers over to the mallets, testing their weight in her hand before she settles on one, one with the best balance (she thinks. To be honest, she doesn't have any clue about this). "Hitting things with sticks sounds delightful," she tells Pietro, with a relish in her voice that might be somewhat alarming.

"Princess, I am honored and delighted to make your acquaintance." Pietro sketches a little bow towards Jaenelle as he returns his attention to her, favoring her with a bright smile reflected warm and sunny in his bright black eyes. He bites his lip as his eyes dart to Dafne, and the flash of his grin is crooked as he tips his head in her direction. "I agree," he says, with near equal verve, "in fact, it's one of my favorite pastimes, hitting things with other things. Practically therapeutic!"

"You, my dear Princess, are going to go fetch yourself a wooden mallet and go smack some wooden balls about the grass." Cicero says to Jaenelle after her admission and then smiles to the remaining, "I assume, by your comments, that you've never played the game before?" he asks rhetorically of the gathered players. "it is a rather simple game.. Each team gets two balls. You must hit each one is succession through the the hoops in a set order." he waves his hands about the field to show the flow of the course. "Hit through one way, loop around to hit through the other and then hit the center.. We will split you into teams of two. Lord Pietro and Lady Sylphie on one and Princess Jaenelle and the dark haired maiden whose name I do not know on the other.. I will assist as needed."

Sylphie's lips press into a line at the exchange between Pietro and Dafne, exhaling a long suffering sigh, for all that humor warms her grey eyes. "I am only glad, then, that you are on my team then, my lord," she tells Pietro warmly. "You shall have to carry us through this exercise. I have so little luck in any of these things." As Cicero explains, she regards the course with bright, sharply-edged intelligence-- that will likely help not a whit.

Dafne swish her mallet about with alarming enthusiasm. Careful. She dips into a little curtsy, still brandishing said mallet, and murmurs by way of introduction, "Lady Dafne Zaffria, your highness."

Reaching for a mallet, and not looking all that thrilled with being volunteered, Jaenelle turns towards Dafne and grins, "well. I am sure we'll win. I know the host of the event and I am sure I could bribe him into knocking our balls where they are meant to go. It'll be fine." Maybe she is trying to convince herself.

"I promise, I shall carry my weight, my lady," Pietro says to Sylphie with a grin. "And if we do not win the day, well, we shall at least make our best showing of it." He swings his mallet and then angles it down, balancing it jauntily towards one of his boots. "I enjoy any honorable contest that involves hitting things."

Cassius stands aside in the waning light of summer, smiling and watching the various folk in the croqueting.

Sylphie checked luck against difficulty 10, resulting in 10, 0 higher than the difficulty.

"Or we could just swoon melodramatically when our balls go astray," suggests Dafne. "That way, perhaps we be entertaining, or at least, make people feel sorry for us."

Pietro checked dexterity against difficulty 15, resulting in 23, 8 higher than the difficulty.

Jaenelle checked luck against difficulty 10, resulting in 13, 3 higher than the difficulty.

Dafne checked dexterity against difficulty 15, resulting in 26, 11 higher than the difficulty.

Jaenelle tests the weight of her mallet out as she and her partner seem to be bonding over ways to either get out of doing this, or perhaps manipulating the playing field to become more equal. "Yes. Swooning is a Thrax woman speciality. I could definitely swoon." She turns towards Cicero and gives the man a wink, "I am feeling faint, Cicero. This mallet is too heavy, the sun is too bright. You are too handsome and I am feeling distracted just by being around you." Even as she talks, her mallet rears back and she taps her ball towards the direction she wishes it to go without really paying all that much attention.

"Excellent.. if you're all ready?" Cicero says and then moves over to where the balls are laying. He taps on with his foot and rolls it away from the bunch to stand beside it. "You can either it is from the side.." he begins and positions his mallet down in front of him, the head of it parallel to his body. "or behind." a step and pivot taking to have the mallet in line with his legs, the head of it pointing in front of him..

Look, perhaps if Sylphie were trying, this would be a lot more embarrassing, but as it is she's already too concerned with the fall of amber silk skirts and making sure that the deep backlessness doesn't accidentally reveal /more/ than she wants when she bends over to hit her ball. At least when she hits it, it rolls forward. Even if it doesn't roll through a hoop. "Well, my dear vassal," she says lightly. "I hope you are prepared to finish this."

"Or... like that" Cicero says with a grin over to Jaenelle.

"I will avenge your ball, my liege," Pietro assures Sylphie. This is probably not an appropriate allocation of vengeance. He does a quite creditable job, his stroke one of clean athleticism more than ready flair as he sends the ball sailing with his mallet.

"I will try to catch you if you swoon," Dafne assures Jaenelle. "But, although you are a perfectly pleasing weight, I am extremely weak and might just be too overwhelmed to remain upright." She whacks at the ball with enthusiasm. THWACK. "If this does not go through the hoop, I will be terribly distraught." Her full lower lip trembles, just a little.

As it seems both Jaenelle and Dafne's balls somehow do what they were supposed to, Jae turns towards Dafne and nods somberly. "You are truly generous in your offerings of saving me and cushioning my fall should I become so distraught that I fall right where I stand. I will do my best to remain strong in the face of this hardship for the both of us." She reaches over to lay a light tough on the other woman's arm, "together, we shall overcome." Laying it on thick.

There is the trace of a frown where Dafne and Jaenelle score the first point, but Sylphie's lips turn up into a smile soon after before she's offering to her cousin and her teammate, "Good shots. I fear that I should have practiced swinging /anything/ before I came." She can't even blame Pietro. But she moves to her ball to attempt the second hoop.

e "Remember the first to the peg in the middle after making it through all the hoops properly is the winner." Cicero says as he moves along the field, watching the game with a smile. He moves up to Dafne and Jaenelle to lean in, "Should I stay close to either of you then to ensure no one is injured in the fall?"

Dafne pats Jaenelle's hand lightly, her lip still wibbling. "I will endeavour not to crumple in the face of..." She glances at the balls. "Unexpected success." She glances up to Cicero with a flutter of her dark lashes. "That depends, your highness," she replies. "Might your closeness and ready assistance extend to, say...accidentally nudging a ball in the right direction with your noble foot?"

"You may always swing at me, my lady," Pietro offers valiantly with a wide smile for Sylphie. "Consider it a standing invitation." His gaze narrows across the green as he watches the other competitors and it's easy to tell that, like many sportsmen, he'd totally prefer to be winning, but he's bearing up well under the pressure of performance, probably because he's literally never played croquet before and maybe doesn't even entirely understand that he's not winning (you never can tell). When she sets up the second ball, he again follows along after to take a fairly smooth shot.

"Would that be, my lord, any way for a noble to treat her vassal?" counters Sylphie lightly, her smile easy on her lips. It is clear that she doesn't care that she's losing; she makes no adjustments to her measured paces or the way she taps at the ball lightly. She's certainly not making the end hoop before the other team. "Besides, I think that Lord Rubino does that enough for the both of us, if we are limited to only a number."

Jaenelle seems to just be following orders by this point, tapping her mallet against the ball lightly in whichever direction the helpful attendants or Cicero points towards. She isn't quite sure who is winning, nor does she seem to be very competitive in the least. "I think that would be wise" the princess tells Cicero with a serious expression on her face as she nods. "You might have become our good luck charm."

"Tsk tsk... that would be cheating." Cicero says to Dafne with a grin and then looks to Jaenelle, "You don't need luck... I would say you're doing quite well on your own merits." he says and then slips back to the other duo, "If you must beat him with the mallet I only ask that you make it look like an accident. This IS supposed to be a friendly match after all."

"I can hardly begrudge you what I offer so freely to him," Pietro says. His smile grows even wider, but he controls his expression a little better when Cicero approaches him. "My friendship for Lady Sylphie could easily survive a little thing like a mallet beating, Prince Cicero."

Sylphie's laugh catches in her throat, her smile easy where it matches Pietro's. But as he assures Cicero, she only answers drily, "Mm, perhaps on your part. But I promise you if you attempted to hit me with one, it certainly wouldn't." Her ball makes it through the second loop, at least, but she's nowhere near the third.

"It's not cheating if it's an _accident_," Dafne counters, while giving a tap to the ball that seems to demonstrate she doens't need to cheat, after all."And let us not talk about beating anyone with mallets. Unless it is administered by a mysterious man with an eyepatch and a crooked shoulder, who may not actually be among the living."

Jaenelle pouts slightly as their good luck charm goes to run off on the other team. Perhaps he was just a distraction afterall, as she clicks the ball towards the center with Dafne's help. "I think we've finished" she states, proudly, finished not won, as chances are she doesn't know if they have won or not. She hands off her mallet, turning towards the rest, "eyepatch? who is wearing an eyepatch?"

"Well, I wasn't planning on hitting you with one. This ball, though--" Pietro finishes out their last round with a hearty thwack of his mallet to the ball. He bites thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek, temporarily distracted by Dafne's words across the green. "Is this a particular crooked gentleman, Lady Dafne, that you wish to have beaten?"

Cicero chuckles at the banter between the the groups and grin as he hear Jaenelle's ball click into the center pole of the course, "And that, is a game." he announces before gesturing towards the table of refreshments, "Please, have some wine. Some food. Let us relax and watch others take the field" Because of course there are others! Nameless folks that naturally came by and will take to the field once the other leave it.

"And we didn't even swoon once," Dafne points out to Jaenelle. "How terribly sad." She glances toward Pietro. "It is a fictional crooked gentleman. The villain of," she hesitates for a moment, swinging her mallet idly in a way certain to terrify anyone with range, "The Fatalistic Croquet Match!" she decides.

Sylphie's smile is bright where it is offered to their competitors, telling Dafne and Jaenelle both, "Well done, ladies." But her own mallet is handed off to Pietro, her free hand pressing fingertips against his arm as she leans in to murmur something in the man's ear.

Donella has taken a place by the sidelines such as they are, with a telescoping ship's glass to track the progress of teams on the turf. "Jaeny, you've been an hour at least with that mallet, and no one's skull has so much as a lump. How good you are!" She makes a courtesy to those others coming in for refreshment.

Runa clusters with some of those unnamed folk, but they disengage to delight in taking up a mallet now that others have braved the precursor attempts at the activity. The way has been paved, and matters troubling or rumour-worthy take a tea break in favour of enjoying the grounds instead. This leaves Runa watching with a wry smile, hands folding behind her back, tilting her head a bit to the side wistfully.

Pietro tips his head in a slight nod, his smile flickering with the slight shift of his eyebrows. Then he turns to collect a couple of glasses from one of the trays being circulated, and wanders over to the other team, proffering one to Jaenelle and one to Dafne. "I promise not to sulk over being crushed by your croquet skills," he says, smile sunny. "Lady Dafne, tell me more of this dastardly fiend."

The Lady Sylphie Zaffria does not join those gathering for refreshments. She escapes in the change over of teams on the field, off on some other errand and leaving her cousin and vassal to represent their houses well.

"There is still time" Jaenelle tells Dafne, "swooning happens when one least expects it." She presses the back of her hand against her forehead for a moment before she hears her cousin's voice and straightens with a grin over towards Donella, "I know! I did not accidently hit anyone with the mallet, not even once." She beams then towards Sylphie and Pietro, "I believe that the four of us are the greatest croquet players in the history of the game."

"Indeed," agrees Dafne with Jaenelle. "We hold the Arxian croquet championship crown." She's assuming, perhaps, there isn't much competition." She accepts the glass from Pietro, giving it an idle wave after her cousin. "He has been cursed to never find rest as long as the game of croquet is played. Cursed by the lady he wooed in the croquet fields and then deserted. He appears when the mallet strikes a ball, and beats players with a mystical mallet, hoping to lay the game to rest once and for all."

Cicero moves off of the field with the others towards the table waves a hand to decline an offered glass of wine from a servant before grinning to Dafne, "It is awfully tricky to woo a lady wielding a wooden mallet. You never know where she might swing it."

"What an unfortunate ghost," Pietro says. His nose crinkles a little. "He should probably not have deserted the lady. This is one of those object lessons, isn't it?" He straightens slightly. When his other drink goes unclaimed, he lifts it to his lips instead as though it was never intended for anyone else. "I think the lesson there is that one should never woo a lady without first being prepared to dodge." It's possible that Pietro is not very good at lessons.

Jaenelle looks towards Sylphie as she slips away, turning towards those left. She stands on her toes to offer her cousin by marriage a kiss to his cheek, "I enjoyed the game, thank you for hosting something other than a ball. I should return home as well, I will see you when you come home, I am sure. Lady Dafne, I adore you. Lord Pietro, we shall have to speak more soon."

"I think your version of wooing must be very unorthodox," Dafne tells Pietro, blue eyes wide. She gives Jaenelle a warm smile. "I am sure I will see you again, Princess. With or without vengeful mallet-wielding ghosts."

Cicero grins to Piertro, "I think you a keen observe of a story and the moral it teaches us." he says and then is turning to give Jaenelle a kiss on the cheek along with a gentle hug about the waist. "Of course, Princess. I will look for you to discuss how often you've played croquet in the past. You were holding out."

"I'll look forward to that, Princess Jaenelle," Pietro answers with a smile and another little bow. He sips his drink, returning his bright gaze to Dafne and Cicero. "What a conquest you have made, Lady Dafne; from introduction to adoration in a short hour's croquet match." He grins an acknowledgment to Cicero in answer, a laugh on his breath, and inclines his head in response.

"Who knew croquet was so powerful?" Dafne replies to Pietro. "Powerful enough to summon ghosts from the dead." She eyes her mallet. "Perhaps I should put this down before I succumb to the temptation to hit someone with it."

"If you truly wish to hit something, my lady, I invite you to join me in the training center sometime." Pietro gives Dafne a careless grin and adds with another laugh on his breath: "I'll even hold still long enough for you to take a good whack." Rolling his shoulders in a loosening shrug, he adds lightly, "Though -- be sure to dress to sweat, if you take me up on it." Settling his weight back on his heels, he glances up toward Cicero with an upsweep of his eyebrows. "Thank you for hosting the matches tonight, Highness. It's been an engaging time."