Chapter Text
"Lord Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, Master of Driftmark and Master of Ships!" The herald cried, and Corlys entered the throne room at the head of his household.
With him came 20 guards, three knights of his household and their wives, and a dozen servants carrying crates on their shoulders. It pleased him to see the awe in the faces of the court despite his long absence, and the herald's acknowledgement of his title as Master of Ships meant Viserys hadn't replaced him.
Only once the servants laid their crates on the ground did Corlys kneel to the King, though his knee had barely touched the stone before he was being urged to stand.
"Your Grace." Corlys greeted. He allowed himself a smile: a show of affection for his kin. "I return from my voyage with gifts from Old Valyria herself."
Though the King tried to look regal, his eagerness could not be hidden and he quickly gave his permission for the gifts to be presented. Wordlessly, a single servant approached first holding a long and thin carved box. Once opened, Corlys reached within and ceremoniously removed the spear. The shaft had been ruined by the Doom but Driftmark's carpenters had strived to make a worthy replacement, and the result was a beauty: six feet of ironwood from the North, carefully and artistically engraved with a flame pattern.
The King rose from his Throne and descended the steps to take it in hand himself with a look of awe on his face, waving the Kingsguard away when they got nervous. Technically, one wasn't permitted to handle a weapon in the King's presence but Corlys had been sure it would be overlooked.
"A spear of Valyrian steel!" Corlys announced to the onlookers.
He was getting tired of repeating himself, but this was a show for the courtiers. Let them all see and hear of his accomplishments and rail before the might of his House.
"Remarkable." The King whispered.
More servants approached, carrying a large crate between them, and Viserys handed off the spear to Ser Steffon to watch as they pried the lid off.
Even the Kingsguard visibly reacted at the sight of the armour within the crate.
"This is but one of five sets of Valyrian steel armour my House is gifting to the royal family." The old Lord said loudly, relishing in the sounds around the room. "The others are still aboard the Sea Snake, awaiting your instruction."
"Have them brought up." The King ordered weakly. "I would have them placed securely in the Red Keep."
Corlys nodded and one of the servants retreated to fill out the order.
Finally, the last crate was brought forward, ornately carved and decorated similarly to the first. This time Corlys spoke before it was opened:
"And lastly, Your Grace, House Targaryen already owns two Valyrian steel swords, so I thought to gift these to the noble Kingsguard that guard our royals' backs."
The crate opened and curses and prayers alike were muttered across the hall, ser Lorent's hand slipped from the sword at his hip and the Lord Hand's face went pale. Corlys grinned. To gift a King a Valyrian steel sword was one thing, to gift an order of knights seven swords was entirely another. Without having to say it, the Lord had just announced to the entire court that he had brought back more than enough swords to not quite know what to do with them all.
Chew on that, Otto.
Viserys beamed at him and took a step back, gesturing for the Kingsguard to come and claim their treasures. One by one they removed their own swords and stepped forward, and bowed as Corlys personally handed them their new weapons, specifically decorated for their order with dazzling yet practical white scabbards and hilts. By the time each were appropriately armed, the King had returned to his seat of swords. He hadn't stopped smiling the entire time.
"Lord Corlys - cousin," Viserys began. "you do House Targaryen great honour with these gifts, items hard earned by your own person. We shall cherish these for centuries to come, and always remember it was our kin the Velaryons that gave them."
"The honour is mine, King Viserys." He said as he bowed.
"We shall feast in your honour tonight! Is the wizard not here?"
How quickly a successful trip to Valyria and priceless gifts are left forgotten in the face of a dragonriding wizard, Corlys thought wryly.
"Not yet, Your Grace." He replied. "He follows behind me and will be here tomorrow."
"He does not present himself before the King immediately?" Otto Hightower interjects from the side-lines with a frown.
Otto Hightower. Corlys seethed. The man manipulated the King to his heart's desire, planted spies within his keep without Viserys' consent, and now interrupted a conversation with the King in the middle of court and implied insult to House Velaryon's friend and ally? If it was a fight the man wanted, Corlys would be more than happy to provide.
The Lord's teeth glinted as he smiled up at the Hand.
"After seven years spent in a wasteland, we thought to give him an extra day to make himself fit for court."
"He delayed for frippery?" Otto raised an eyebrow but it seems he had earned the King's ire with that comment as he turned to his Hand with a frown.
"No, my Lord Hand. Frippery is one thing but appropriate clothing for his station is quite another. I doubt any one of us here would willingly appear before the King in rags or their bedclothes or something else inappropriate."
The court tittered, after all they all spent fortunes on their appearance, the Hand included. To expect even a foreign wizard to not know how to dress themselves appropriately would be preposterous.
"His station being...?"
"Oh, enough Otto!" The King snapped. "This..."
"Ser Harry Potter, Your Grace."
"Yes, thank you! This Ser Harry will arrive tomorrow as Corlys said and there is no insult in it! The man might have magic but I'm sure even he needs actual resources to put clothes on his back."
A little misleading, but the implication of Harry having been living naked would be easily rectified at the feast that night when Corlys spoke of his strange origins. He was sure the ladies of the court would find Harry's jeans terribly interesting, if somewhat common.
"So!" The King clapped his hands. "A feast tonight in honour of our triumphant Lord of the Tides, and another tomorrow for our magical guest!"
Court eventually adjourned and Corlys was invited to what was meant to be a private meeting with the King before Otto inserted himself, but Corlys didn't mind. The snake had to leave them alone at some point after all.
Once again, and not for the last time he was sure, Corlys was made to recount every detail of his meeting with Harry and his visit to Valyria. The King was an enthusiastic listener, with countless questions. It was the Lord's genuine pleasure to answer them all, eager to talk up his friend to the King before the wizard arrived.
"Tell me of this land he comes from." The King requested. "Was it terribly different than ours?"
"Not as much as one would expect, although Harry's personal tragedies have made those differences appear larger."
"Oh?"
"Aye." Corlys wet his tongue and poured himself another cup of watered wine. "Ser Harry was born to nobility, but his parents were the victim of a terrible war before he learned to speak." He paused to allow the King to voice his dismay. "His mother was not noble by birth, and a first generation magic user at that - none of her family were gifted. Upon being orphaned, Harry was raised by his non-magical, commoner Aunt, and although all magic users attended the same school regardless of class due to their small numbers, no one saw fit to ever inform Harry of his prestigious heritage."
"How terrible." Viserys murmured. "How did he ever learn?"
"His inheritance from his noble godfather included an extensive library, including multiple books on the genealogies of the Noble Houses of his country." Corlys explained. "So he learned once he arrived here and the knowledge was of no use to him."
"Tragic."
"So the wizard is for all intents and purposes a commoner then?" The Hand asked distastefully.
The Seasnake smiled thinly. "A knight actually, Ser Otto." Point made, he turned back to the King. "Besides, it seems that barring their involvement in politics, there wasn't much difference between the classes in Harry's homeland. The commoners of Westeros have perhaps one skill that they learn for their livelihood, cannot read nor write, barely know their numbers and maintain poor hygiene. None of that is the case for Harry's people. He has attended thirteen years of school studying a variety of subjects, only some of which were for his magical education, and his people apparently bathe every day."
"Every day!"
"Apparently, Your Grace. What's more, I've found him to be a delight to be around." Corlys admitted. "He is respectful, considerate and fair, a true knight even before he'd earned the title. He might not quite know when to bow or call people by their proper titles, but he only comes across as rude if you're a stickler for the formalities."
The old Lord could not wait until Harry met the Lord Hand. It was bound to be entertaining.
"Oh?"
Corlys sent the King an amused smile. "He called my wife by her given name when they first met."
Viserys gasped delightedly. "He did not! And he still lives?"
"Not only does he still live, last I saw she was clucking all over him like a mother hen!"
The pair laughed uproariously at the image of the indomitable Princess Rhaenys fussing over an all powerful wizard, and Otto chose that moment to make his excuses and leave - thank the gods. Once they had calmed, Corlys turned back to the King seriously.
"Harry will be bringing his own gifts for the royal family tomorrow, but he was concerned upon leaning of Your Grace's health issues."
"Health issues, what? Corlys -"
"Your Grace."
Viserys huffed and slumped down into his chair. He couldn't pretend his health was fine. The cuts from the Throne kept getting infected, leading to parts of his flesh rotting and needing to be removed and burned. He'd lost two fingers already and the entire realm saw he looked a decade and a half his brother's senior, despite there only actually being a four year difference between the two.
"Harry is an accomplished potioneer - and these are not woods witches' concoctions. These are actual magical potions created by masters in their field." Corlys insisted. The gods know the maesters had come up with remedy after remedy and all had failed. "He plans to speak with the Grand Maester to get your exact symptoms and share any potions recipes he feels relevant, but he gave me these to pass on to you in a more timely manner."
He placed two vial and a small clay pot on the table and pushed them towards the King, who examined them closely.
"What are they?"
"The red potion is called a Blood-replenishing potion, to be taken when you have lost a lot of blood." Corlys explained. "The clear is Essence of Dittany - a few drops will close any wound near instantaneously, and the cream is Murtlap Paste to heal infections. I have already seen all three at work after we were beset by pirates in the Stepstones and can assure you they are safe and effective."
The King hummed and right before Corlys' eyes lifted the hem of his trousers by a few inches to reveal a small cut on his shin. A single clear drop fell from the stopper and landed on the wound. Immediately, smoke curled and Viserys' hiss of pain gave way to shock as the cut closed before their eyes.
"I was also instructed to give you this in case you had an allergic reaction to any of the ingredients." Corlys said drily, placing what seemed to be a stone on the table. "A bezoar from the stomach of a goat. A healing agent so powerful not a single poison in this world can overcome it."
"Ah - yes, thank you." The King said sheepishly. "I was a little eager, wasn't I? Thank you, Corlys."
"Think nothing of it, Your Grace." The Seasnake hesitated. "Regarding what I spoke of before - Harry's manners and comportment..."
"Yes?" Viserys asked as he pushed the potions out of immediate reach to avoid fiddling with them.
"I feel I must prepare you..."
"- and there I was, shouting uselessly at the crew, trying to regain control while they ran around like headless chickens trying to escape this demented hatchling, when Ser Harry comes running out on deck in nothing but a robe. He points his wand and the little red beast starts zooming through the air backwards and smacks him right in the face!" Corlys recounted to his audience.
Roaring in laughter, King, Lords and Princess alike, his adoring listeners ate up every story he fed them. His sole job before the day was through was to prepare the court for Harry's arrival. For the King, that meant warning him of Harry's strange views on class ("Respectful he will be, Your Grace, but he does not consider himself above nor below anyone. He will consider himself your equal just as he considers himself the equal of some cobbler from Fleabottom."), and for the crowds that meant de-vilifying his magic.
So over-the-top stories it was.
He had spoken of the wizard's feats during their fight with the pirates - both in battle and in healing the injured afterwards, he had mentioned the delightful dolphin soul guardian that could send instantaneous messages, as well as the plethora of clumsy accidents he'd had - like the time he'd tried to banish an annoying bird and had instead sent one of Corlys' sailors overboard.
It was important that Harry be respected but not feared. He could and would throw a man across a room if he said or did something particularly offensive, but he wasn't about to start drinking people's blood or making puppets out of them or whatever it was they did in the far east.
"What happened then, Lord Corlys?" Princess Rhaenyra cried.
"Well, he gave the dragon a good scolding and then made her go to each and every sailor aboard my ship and apologize."
That had been quite the scene. Bellona had become quite belligerent when Braeden had tried to assist in untangling the dragon from Corlys' hair and had then chased him around the ship snapping at his heels until someone tried to help, at which point all of his crew became free game. Watching the dejected little dragon hang her head and drag her tail as she was made to squeak up at every single man aboard his ship had the old man grinning for days.
"Dragons shouldn't have to apologize to anyone!"
Corlys looked down at the little girl seriously. "If they're in the wrong, they should." He said. "No matter how powerful, one shouldn't throw their weight around just because they can. Even dragons. Ser Harry has a saying: judge not a person by how they treat their equals, but by how they treat their inferiors."
"A wise man." The King nodded.
"He sounds so chivalrous!" The Lady Alicent said, and Rhaenyra's pout turned into a tentative smile.
Princess Rhaenyra's spoilt nature now that she was heir to the Throne was... she was much too young for it to be truly concerning, but it was definitely something to watch for. While Daemon had his qualities, he also had a plethora of flaws and the Princess was especially close to him. Royals were predisposed to have a certain arrogance, but believing anyone not Valyrian was dirty was perhaps a step too far for a Queen of the Andals and the First Men.
Perhaps some proximity to their soon-to-be resident wizard was what she needed, some of his humility was bound to rub off on her. Harry had made it clear there would be no political marriages in his future but a fostering was a different matter.
Of course, he had to be a Lord for that, but based on the books and maps Corlys had seen in Viserys' office, that wouldn't be a problem. And a House that boasted a man bonded to ten dragons could surely not be considered too low to host a Princess for at least a few moons, no matter their actual position in the House hierarchy. Maybe he would send his own daughter to foster with Harry and it would encourage the King to send his own.
"I hadn't expected Ser Harry to be so..."
"Kind?" Corlys finished. "There are good and bad people everywhere, Lady Alicent. And Ser Harry is one of the best I've met so far."
Corlys watched on in pride as Harry straightened from his bow and stood before the King.
House Velaryon had been introduced first, Rhaenys and their children leading the head of an impressive procession of retainers and had now taken their places at the from of the hall, closest to the Throne as was their right as kin to the King. Then Harry had been called in and he had walked down the hall proudly, head held high ignoring the whispers of the court, clad in black and silver as befitting his station as a friend of House Velaryon. Although he did not kneel, he bowed appropriately low to the King on the Throne.
"Ser Harry Potter." The King greeted.
Harry dipped his head. "Your Grace, thank you for having me. I bring gifts to show my appreciation." In a casual show of magic, the wizard removed a small box from his pocket and seamlessly both enlarged it, lowered it to the floor and opened its lid. Crowd gasped and tittered in excitement and the King jerked forward on his Throne beaming with delight. "For the Princess," Harry smiled up at the girl. "I have book of fairy tales from my homeland and an enchanted music box."
Instead of handing over the box to a servant as he did with the book, he opened it right there. Dulcet tones echoed through the room, but everyone's attention was on the image above the box: a woman of golden light and a man of shadow embraced in a dance, gliding through the air with no strings or mechanisms to see. The Princess gasped and took an involuntary step forward. At the King's soft nod, Harry approached and handed it directly to the girl with a gentle smile on his face.
"Thank you, Ser." The princess whispered. Just before he could step back, the girl blurted: "I've never met a wizard before!"
"Well I've never met a Princess before, so you're in good company." Harry responded with a cheeky grin.
The King laughed along with everyone else as Harry made his way back to his chest.
"For you, King Viserys, I bring a book on the many dragon breeds of my homeland; a set of ten self-inking quills made from the feathers of a resplendent quetzal, useful for up to a year each; and this chest, enchanted to be ever-expanding. It will never run out of space. I know it's a bit plain, but I thought you might like to have your own carpenters or artists decorate it to your liking - all of the runes are on the inside so it can be modified externally however much you'd like."
Each of the gifts was pulled out one by one and passed on to a servant to carry away once court adjourned.
"Thank you, Ser Harry. Finer gifts I could not have wished for."
"Is it not true you have dragon eggs?" Ser Otto asked and Corlys' grip on his wife's hand tightened suddenly.
Were he a less restrained man he'd have made some noise of glee. Here we go, he we go, here we go, he thought.
"I do." Harry answered, audibly confused at this new conversation topic.
"Are they also hidden in your pockets?"
"Oh no, Lord Hand." Harry laughed. "This outfit doesn't have enchanted pockets and I wouldn't dream of shrinking a dragon egg."
"So you did not bring them?" Otto frowned.
"No, Ser Otto. I left them in the care of Driftmark's very capable dragon keepers."
"And when, then, do you plan on returning to House Targaryen their rightful property?"
Harry's gaze sharped and Corlys nearly cheered while Rhaenys let out a breath that in a more private setting would have been a full-blown snort.
"We're still speaking of the dragon eggs, right?"
"As the only remaining dragonriding House of Old Valyria, House Targaryens maintains ownership of all dragon eggs in the Seven Kingdoms." Otto glared, but Harry seemed completely unbothered despite his smile having long gone.
The King's eyes were blown wide with near panic but still he did not intervene, letting his Hand spin out of control in front of the entire court. At least they would all get to see that Harry could be challenged without covering the walls with blood.
"Respectfully, I disagree." The wizard retorted smoothly. "Dragons are living, thinking creatures and cannot be owned by any man. My children have claimed these eggs. After the first hatched on accident, my daughter and I hunted, retrieved and cared for her kin, and my other children assisted after their own hatchings. Those dragon eggs are my future sons and daughters, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Your Grace, does House Targaryen not have any more dragon eggs?"
"We do! Many!" The King glared at his Hand but still did not verbally rebuke him.
"There." Harry said, satisfied. "The King is obviously happy with the amount of eggs he already has. If you want some dragons for your own House, Lord Hand, I'd be happy to help you get to Old Valyria - after all I'm sure I left many behind. I can even make the travel fast so you didn't miss out on your important work; I can travel instantaneously to any place I've been before and I can easily take passengers."
Hah! That was a threat if Corlys had ever heard one! A few courtiers gasped and tittered, and Otto paled dramatically, but Corlys wasn't concerned. Harry was behaving admirably, defending himself with eloquence and poise. Clearly he'd learned a lot in the last few months.
"Should one of my family take a liking to a member of House Targaryen - or House Velaryon too, for that matter - then I'll hardly object. If House Targaryen has any dead eggs they wish me to revive then I'll happily do so. And if House Targaryen one day runs out of eggs I will eagerly provide some - not to any member of their House but rather their dragons. Because neither a dragon nor a dragon egg can be owned. Only loved."
"Well said!" The King finally interjected, shifting on the Throne. "My people often misunderstand our bonds with our dragons, and indeed it is easy to underestimate if you've not experienced it. Dragons are not mere pets to be bought or exchanged, but the other halves of our soul. If they had no power of choice, every egg would hatch no matter whose cradle we placed it in!"
Harry bowed his head in acknowledgement.
"Please, Ser Harry. One of the servants will lead you to your rooms so that you might refresh before the feast we hold in your honour tonight."
With that, court was adjourned and Corlys went to meet with his friend.
The feast was in full swing and Harry and Corlys were the centre of attention.
He was thankful Rhaenys had been summoned to King's Landing the month previous, such a spread wouldn't have been possible without such forewarning. Harry of course had frozen upon the sight of such a buffet, as he had during Driftmark's feast. It seemed even after months of no longer living on wyvern and mutated rabbits, regular food was a surprise - not that a sailor's provisions were anything exciting, but they were a change of pace all the same.
So far, Harry had discussed mainly food with King Viserys - although he as an aside made a few mentions of a few of the magics he had used in Valyria - and described in great detail his farm back at the old manor, had stumbled along laughing while Princess Rhaenyra tried to teach him to dance, and was now back at the high table discussing the alcoholic beverages available in each world.
Corlys thanked the heavens the wizard hadn't brought any firewhisky along in that pouch of his when he got thrown here - it sounded nightmarish. Of course the idea of breathing fire delighted Viserys so Harry proceeded to describe the many mistakes made by teenagers wanting to have a good time.
"Ser Harry, Lord Corlys says you named your dragons after the ancient gods of your world?" The Lady Alicent called.
Alicent was attending as Rhaenyra's Lady in waiting rather than the daughter of the Hand as it seemed Otto had been forbidden from attending - a fact noticed by everyone and anyone, to Corlys' great delight. Although it would have been nice to see the King humble his Hand in public himself rather than let his guests do it, it was clear the man had been taken to task.
"That's right, Lady Alicent." Harry responded. "Unfortunately, it's impossible to tell a baby's future personality at time of birth. I can assure you some my children would be named quite differently had it been."
"Oh?"
Harry nodded. "My oldest son is named after the god of mischief, but Loki is by far the most responsible of his siblings."
"Why did you name him that then?" The Princess asked.
"As a hatchling he was always running around, crawling into small spaces and climbing everything in sight. It caused Galene no end of headaches she still blames him for, so the name seemed fitting at the time."
Those within hearing laughed, and nearby conversation turned to the latest antics the Lords' children had gotten up to.
"Which one best fits their name, do you think?" The King questioned.
"Galene, I'd say. Named for the goddess of calm seas. She was my first child, my first contact with another intelligent being since being stranded. She saved my sanity who knows how many times even back when she was a rambunctious little hatchling. Now, she's settled into herself and is a constant calming presence. She has her own child now too, you know?"
"Which one is that?"
As Harry turned to indulge the Princess and tell her everything about his dragons, Corlys thoughts drifted to the creatures in question.
They had come to King's Landing with Harry, of course, though only Bellona and Janus stayed in the Keep with him - and even that caused some turmoil before the King settled it by stating that every young dragon always remains with its bonded until it becomes unmanageable. Seeing as the two were not only small enough to fit through the keep's various doorways but they were docile as well, then there was no reason for them to not stay with their father. The others were far to big to remain in the keep, and of course Persephone stayed with her mother unless there was no other choice, so they all gathered on the beaches of Blackwater Bay just outside the walls.
There had been some contention about that too, and a place for them was offered up in the dragonpit but the dragons had refused to go when asked, stating they preferred being by the sea. Supposedly, they enjoyed the sound of the waves.
The last time Corlys had seen them, they were examining the carcasses of a few deer and and a dozen sheep and goats in curiosity, Nike even going so far as to poke one with a wing. They had done the same on Driftmark when presented with pigs.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Viserys rise goblet in hand, and straightened to attention.
"My Lords!" The King called, and the room began quieting immediately. "My Lords and Ladies. We feast tonight in honour of Ser Harry Potter, a wizard from a far off land. We'd all heard the rumours of course: a magician from Valyria was on his way to Westeros with a thunder of dragons above his head and lightening at his fingers, and I'm sure I wasn't not the only one waiting with bated breath to see the validity of these whispers myself."
The crowd laughed and mumbled among themselves, and Corlys clapped his friend on the back to try and dispel his blush.
"Ser Harry has brought gifts for my House, magical gifts of information, practicality, and beauty; but I would speak more on this man's accomplishments rather than the nice things he can provide. Harry Potter survived the Doom when none other could have for seven years, creating a safe place for himself and his hatchlings!"
Pausing, the King allowed for the audience to cheer and bang their cups on the table.
"Harry Potter gave a Westerosi the opportunity to step foot in the greatest civilization to ever have lived - Old Valyria herself - and bring back untold treasures and relics!"
The cheers were louder this time, and if Corlys wasn't mistaken that was Jason Lannister rising from his seat and shaking his fist in victory. He had been just the first of many to inquire about buying one of Corlys' many Valyrian steel swords.
"Harry Potter saved the life of one of our very own Lords - a man whom I call kin! - not only throwing himself into battle but using his magics to heal the wounded once the enemy had been routed!"
Rhaenys squeezed his hand tightly and his children whooped and screamed along with the crowd.
"Harry Potter has reminded me of what it truly means to be bonded to a dragon. Now, he has been knighted for his services." The King said in a tone more apt for a confession than a celebration. "Harry Potter became Ser Harry before he stepped foot on Westerosi soil. But I ask you: is that enough?"
"Oh Merlin." Harry muttered beside him and Corlys struggled to contain a snort.
The wizard had come to understand and begrudgingly accept that no mere man may command the power he does or own dragons - as much as they can be owned - and that he would likely be granted titles and lands. Status and authority to match his power. He'd still made it clear though that he greatly preferred to just have a nice house and garden and be left alone, far away from the politics of Lordships and vassalage.
"We mustn't forget what Ser Harry lost when he became stranded in this world." The King continued oblivious. "He lost his noble title, his friends, his family, his community. Well, we can give him a community. He has built his own family and made new friends. So that leaves one last thing."
Turning to face Harry, the King raised his goblet as the people watched on silently. A ripple of excitement travelled the room and it seemed everyone held their breath.
"Ser Harry. I would return your noble title and name you Lord Harry Potter, and grant you the island of Rockport in Blackwater Bay."
By the time the crowd stopped clamouring, Corlys had elbowed Harry into rising from his own seat for a speech.
"I'm not usually one for speeches," Harry began. "but I'd like to thank first King Viserys for his welcome and his recognition, Lord Corlys for stopping his ship when he saw Loki so that I might catch up to him, and you all for welcoming me so warmly. I feel privileged to stand before you all not as a visitor or a guest, but as a peer. Although between you and me," he smiled slyly at the crowd, leaning forward a little as if to speak in their ear. "I think this is all an elaborate plot from the Princess to butter me up so I'll give her more gifts."
The Princess in question giggled behind her hand. "No!" She objected loudly.
"No need to pretend Rhaenyra!" Viserys laughed. "You've been caught out!"
Harry took his seat once more and winked at the girl as everyone laughed. Corlys leaned over to his wife.
"'Not one for speeches' my feathery slippers." He muttered.
"Indeed. It's so pleasing when they keep it short and to the point."