Trumpets blare through the dark room. Your eye is drawn to movement on the dais.
"Her Royal Majesty, Queen Hero."
Everyone stands to welcome the stately Queen, her lilac gown luminous against the deep gray stones. She ascends to her throne and clasps her husband's hand, waving to the assembled multitude. As she sits, two ladies-in-waiting take up positions at her side of the dais…waiting.
For their part, the unserved petitioners stand, disgruntled but accepting, and begin to file out of the room. Odds are they will be back to try their fortunes with the King tomorrow, you conjecture.
Another short fanfare surprises you. "The soup course," the herald calls out solemnly.
"S'blood, the soup is held as high in esteem as the Queen," you whisper to Kitty Harlowe.
"A serious business, soup," she deadpans. "And on the topic of serious business—now the meal is afoot, you have work to do. Are you prepared?"