Thirty minutes into the activity of dinner, every one noble displayed refined etiquette while they ate. Elizabeth all the while had decided to stick to a plate of soup instead which had earned her a large number of scrutinous gaze fired aggressively her way. She was aware but maintained her calm unfazed by any of it.
In her defense, she knew she wasn't as skilled in refined etiquette much to the degree with which the Royal family were having their supper. Therefore, she'd figured it much easier to proceed with the simple act of downing a handful of the hot pot instead.
Briceus paid no mind to anyone else at this point; to no one else but himself. He could not eat as much; his mind not completely impervious to the thoughts that half of the people he was dining with were extremely dreadful of his presence; his aura ever so frightening and intensely blackened that even the Queen had to deliberate properly on her next choice of words.
