Steps trailed those of all before him, Commander Vlad stationed at the far side of the ballroom receiving his(and those who flanked him)'s salutes and returning one as sanctioned. The King's castle was as grand as his kingdom, exponentially larger than anything he'd seen before, eyes like saucers when taking in the marble carvings along the walls and the paintings hung in between. A sight he'd not soon forget. Likely due in part to the elbows constantly finding his side and motioning his attention to some dolled up minstrel at the end of the banquet table or a piece of patchwork on display for their pleasure. It was all too fanciful for him, were François honest, but when asked his opinion, he remarked on its lavishness and nothing more. Speaking of personal discomfort under high walls would garner little save another questioning glance and dismissal from men he hoped were too preoccupied with a tray of cheeses to notice he didn't wish to be there.
The sea was welcoming...
These curious eyes boring beyond his uniform, peeling back his skin with their doubts; was not.
"Once the treaty is tendered, we're free to leave?" Quiet, in a hushed voice as if to pass secrets. The Commander who'd come to join him isn't amused, from the corner of his eyes, nor the sharpness of his tone that shushed him and didn't offer reassurance. Their King was at the height of the room, his laugh boisterous in a way that seemed blatantly forced and drew uncertainty to the forefront of the Captain's mind. There as guests, the guards had already been counted, splayed about in a manner along the room to ensure no matter which way they planned to head, their paths could be intercepted and denied passage forthright. As was their right in their own land.
Politics would never cease to unnerve him.
How he was expected to eat at such a time remained a mystery, tension flooding the room—or perhaps it was his own, drowning him—till senses seemed honed and fingers twitched for the cutlass he knew not to lay at is hip. Have fun. It's what he'd been told countless times on their voyage; Have fun and don't permit your worries to tether you with ambiguity or distrust. Certainly François had attempted to find enjoyment in the fleeting conversations that asked on his interests and left him awkwardly fidgeting when he could think up little aside from sailing and the occasional game of cards. He didn't dance or sing, he didn't boast any grandiose adventures worthy for scribes to come hither and bards to reiterate and embellish. He could, but those were trivial things, one of the few truths passed down from his father that he cared to recall.
But duty dictated he play his part, no matter how displaced the role felt.
It could have been worse.
They could have been in high-standing company, talked over and—
He saw the King motioning for them long before Vlad, blood trickling cool and his desire to melt into his surroundings transparent. From the exuberant flourish of an arm scooping to the middle of his back, leading him to where he'd wished not to be, he could time the seconds for when the invitation had been received. Orders were whispered, though paid little mind, his own tongue long caged for the ceremonies of the event, willing to oblige his superior's desire to lead their conversations while he stood sentient just shy of his flank. A tight-lipped expression had been brewing and were it not for the catch of his gaze on someone who shined, it'd have been liable to remain as such.
Not shy in the way she eyed him, the face beside the King was taken in; his daughter, the Princess. Perhaps, had he afforded more pointed an interest in the dossier of their charges, he'd have remembered her name... Lips red and spread wide for a hearty smile, one to beckon his own to twitch into place, too ebullient to deny. Stalwart as his stance was, stiff and bordering on painful after a gracious bow regarded their host and one less so acknowledged those at either of his sides, there lay a renewed bud of curiosity for their summons—more so for the Princess' reigned jubilation, above all else. For what speckled her eyes with stifled warmth and thrill...why the air around her seemed thinner and easier to breathe.
They weren't kept waiting for long.
"I wish to go sailing."
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